


A Brief History of Sex

by Letzi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Castiel is an asshole, Castiel/Amelia - Freeform, Cheating, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masters of Sex AU, Minor Aaron Bass/Dean Winchester, Minor Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, ash/Balthazar, minor Ash/Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 124,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letzi/pseuds/Letzi
Summary: Never let it be said that Castiel Novak is not a passionate man. He doesn’t seem like he is at first glance, he’s willing to admit that. But what he does in life, everything that he does, in fact, in life, has been in the pursuit of passion.He’s not sure how it landed him night after night sitting inside a cramped closet in a brothel’s bedroom, watching a prostitute get fucked from behind by one of her clients through a peephole, but that’s where he finds himself these days.He has to make do with what he has.--ABO AU based on the TV Show Masters of Sex and the life and work of Virginia Johnson and William Masters, the pioneers of sex therapy.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 224
Kudos: 145
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. May 1952

**Author's Note:**

> This little piece of fanfic started as a passion project, because i friggin' *LOVE* the show Masters of Sex. I love the dynamic between Michael Sheen and Lizzy Caplan, so of course, I thought, this would be even more perfect with Dean and Cas in their stead. 
> 
> This is not done yet, I will try to post regularly, but I want to enjoy writing it as much as you enjoy reading it (I hope) so it might slow down when I get to the part where I have less material to show. But we're not there yet, I have 46k written already, so Happy Holidays to you all, and enjoy the story :D

#  **PART I : Excitement**

#  **May 1952**

Never let it be said that Castiel Novak is not a passionate man.

He doesn’t seem like he is at first glance, he’s willing to admit that. But what he does in life, everything that he does, in fact, in life, has been in the pursuit of passion.

It’s a fine word, ‘pursuit’. It fits his life well. It’s like he’s been chasing his dreams, chasing his desires, chasing his future, the one he envisioned for himself, but it all keeps running away from him.

Yes, pursuit is definitely the right word. He’s not sure how it landed him night after night sitting inside a cramped closet in a brothel’s bedroom, watching a prostitute get fucked from behind by one of her clients through a peephole, but that’s where he finds himself these days.

He has to make do with what he has.

Of course, he’s not ‘watching’, so much as ‘observing’. Science has to be precise, of course, so using the right term for what he’s doing seems important as well.

Sex is fine, in itself. It never held much of an interest to him, anyway, in his personal life, but the scientific side of it? Oh, how he sought it! It’s been in his head since his first year as a pre-med, up until now, almost fifteen years later. He’s been waiting long enough for the medical board to give him approval to launch an actual study on human sexual responses that in the end, he decided to start it himself.

Maybe, if they see some data, they’ll be more interested.

Funding is not the problem. He’s a well-respected obstetrician, and he’s brought so many patients in, by the strength of his reputation alone, that he could ask for any amount of money and they’d give it to him.

Or they would, for anything other than this.

No. The problem is the study in itself. Uttering the word ‘sex’ in any circle, even in the medical field, associated with anything other than reproduction, is considered depraved. Depraved! As if sex wasn’t something everybody took a part in. Even the priests have to have masturbated at some point, right? _Everybody_ is doing it. But nobody wants to know how it works.

It’s nineteen fifty-two, for Christ’s sake! You’d think it would be tolerated by now to admit people actually enjoy sexual stimulation for something other than procreating!

Of course, most board members, and most important people in this world as it is, are Alphas. And Alphas, regular Alphas, don’t care about anything besides what their status, and their knots by extension, can do for them.

So talking about sex? Talking about trying to understand anything other than Alpha anatomy? They think it ludicrous. They think it vile.

They have no hunger for knowledge.

But Castiel is not like all the other Alphas. He’s a thinker, he’s a smart man, and his life doesn’t revolve around his knot, thank you very much. Again, passion is his thing. His passion for mysteries. His need to resolve them.

And this is what drives him. Not as a doctor, not as a man, not as an Alpha. But as a scientist. As a man of knowledge. As a man of ambition. He wants to be the first to step into that big, messy mystery that is human sexual behavior, and he wants all the credit for his discoveries.

And he’s sure there’ll be plenty. If only he could observe them in a neutral environment, with EEGs and EKGs and actual graphs. Not this parody of research he’s doing now.

But before that, there’s the prostitutes. And the hiding.

Those sessions at the brothel are, thankfully, rather short. He’s curious to know why, of course, and in order to understand, he has regular interviews with Meg – the only prostitute that agreed to be hired for this - after each session.

Tonight is no different. He exits the little closet once the client and Meg are gone, and leaves, walking to the nearest bar where he parked his car.

Meg joins him fifteen minutes later, and they go over the data Castiel collected during the session.

“Got everything you wanted?” Meg drawls, hands wrapping around her coffee like someone’s going to run in and steal it.

“I’ve got… enough,” Castiel answers in a sigh. “Of course I still have some questions.”

“Of course you do. Shoot.”

He hums, already absorbed in his notes. “Your client’s climax lasted eight seconds,” he turns a page, reads over her stats, “but yours was a surprising seventy-five seconds.” He looks up at her. Her smirk doesn’t bode well for him. “Was it something special that he did? Something you thought about?”

She lets out a low chuckle, shaking her head. “Clarence… you’re incredible.”

“It’s Castiel.”

“It was fake.”

He blinks at her. “No, I… what?”

“My, uh,” she rolls her eyes, “climax? I faked it.”

Her words don’t reach his brain at first. Or, indeed they do, because Castiel is a very smart man, but he can’t wrap his mind around it for a long moment. The only thing he can think of asking when he understands is, “Why?” Meg laughs again, and he frowns. “Why would someone… fake an orgasm?”

“You know, Doc, you should think about hiring an omega to work with you. Why do you think?”

And now he’s frustrated. He’s glad he’s wearing blockers, even though he doesn’t like to do it usually. But his line of work dictates it, and tonight, he had to, if he didn’t want the client to smell him and find him hunched over a notebook inside a broom closet. Right now he’s glad she can’t smell his frustration. “I wouldn’t ask if I knew!”

She considers him for a second, tongue poking at the inside of her cheeks, before she leans back with a sigh and reaches for her pack of cigarettes. “Doc, I get paid for sex. I don’t get paid to enjoy it, you know?” The way she picks a cigarette from the pack and brings it to her mouth could almost be interpreted as anxious. “My goal is to get the client off. Me? Not important. But, you know, Alphas are a bunch of prideful dicks – no offense,” she raises an eyebrow at him and he shakes his head to show he’s not offended. “They want to feel like their knot is the Eighth Wonder, you know? So I pretend I enjoy it. I fake it. ‘Cause that’s what they want.”

Castiel hums. She lights her cigarette, and shrugs. “It’s not just whores, though,” she exhales, smoke billowing from her mouth. “Ask any Omega or Beta woman.”

He waves the thought away. “Betas are not part of the study. What are you saying? Omegas – all, without exception – fake their orgasms? Why?”

“I didn’t say that,” she bristles. “But most wouldn’t be surprised to discover that I faked my climax tonight. Just saying, Doc.”

-_-_-_-_-_-

“I need a new secretary,” Castiel says, letting himself fall into the cafeteria chair in front of Balthazar, who stops chewing and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Finally, the great Castiel Novak is going to get a side piece to compete with his lovely wife,” Balthazar deadpans, swallowing his food. “What a great day!”

Castiel just throws him a grave look. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what is it, Cassie? Please, enlighten me,” Balthazar smirks, digging into his scrambled eggs. “Please. I’m dying to know.”

“You’re still seeing that… that, what’s his name? Anthony from Human Resources?”

“Ah.”

“I need them to hire a new secretary. One just for my study.”

“Your study hasn’t been approved,” Balthazar points out, “so even if I started shagging the whole HR department, you know that wouldn’t be possible.”

“Please.”

“I can’t do anything for you, Cassie.” And now Balthazar is serious. For once. “Besides, Tony was a nice piece of arse, but we’re over.”

Castiel groans. “You couldn’t have waited a couple of days?”

“When a love story has run its course, my dear Castiel, there’s no point in letting things linger.”

“What happened this time?” Castiel asks, unfazed.

Balthazar has a reputation. And Castiel knows every single truth behind the rumors. He likes to pursue every omega that crosses his line of sight, fuck them, and leave them once he’s had a good run with them.

“He asked me to meet his parents,” Balthazar answers with a grimace. “Can you imagine?”

“One of these days you’re going to get caught.”

“This hospital is my domain,” Balthazar shrugs with a smile. “You know Daddy wouldn’t let them fire me.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Even the Provost cannot do anything if the Board gets wind of what you’re doing. You should be more careful.”

“I’ll be careful when I’m dead,” Balthazar counters, standing up. “Now, my dear stuck-up friend, I have an appendectomy to attend, if you don’t mind.”

“Fascinating…” Castiel mumbles.

God. He hates surgeons. He hates Balthazar the most, even if he’s his best friend in this hospital. The only friend, truly.

“Good luck,” Balthazar winks.

Castiel sighs. He’s going to have to fire Roberta, isn’t he?

-_-_-_-_-_-

“I’m sorry,” Castiel tells his secretary – Roberta Johnson, a peppy beta he hired less than two months ago – “but I need someone who can handle the… content of my work.”

Her lower lip trembles. Christ. He hopes she isn’t going to cry.

“You mean you think I can’t handle it?” she asks, voice trembling.

With a sigh, he looks down at the ton of paperwork on his desk, then back up at her. He doesn’t have time for this. “I mean I want to study Human Sexual Response, and I don’t think this is something you’d be comfortable with.”

Castiel is not a people’s person. He never was, never will be, he suspects, so this is more akin to torture than anything else. This is why he has secretaries. And this is why they never last long. Because they don’t understand him, his needs, and they all end up crying in his office, telling him they don’t understand why he’s firing them.

God. That’s the point. That’s why he fires them. Because they don’t understand. They never understand.

“This is a hospital,” Roberta says, a bit vexed, now. “I’ve been working here for five years before you hired me, I think I can handle a bit of… of flesh.”

Castiel takes his glasses off, and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Can you handle watching people masturbate?” he asks, looking up at her again. She shifts on her feet. “People in the throes of passion, without letting it affect you? And even without that, can you handle asking people about their sexual habits in a professional manner, without blushing – like you’re doing now – to collect the data I need?”

She doesn’t answer, eyes as big as plate.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, going back to his paperwork.

He puts his glasses back on. This should be her clue that he wants her to leave.

“You’re right, Doctor,” she says. And now her voice is cold. “I can’t be comfortable with… with smut!”

She starts to leave. Finally.

“I expect you to stay until I hire a replacement for you,” he calls after her, not looking up from his work.

As an answer, she slams the door to his office.

Good. He never liked her, anyway.

-_-_-_-_-_-

“Next,” Castiel calls.

All he wants to do is go back to work. But he’s been interviewing secretarial candidates for three days, now, and none of them is what he’s looking for.

So it’s with a resolute sigh that he greets the next candidate. A boy. Uh. They’re usually the worst candidates, because, somehow, being omega and male, they feel like they have to prove themselves too much.

This one looks as eager as the other ones, and if not for his piercing green eyes and charming grin, Castiel would have sent him right back. It’s late, after all. And Castiel promised Amelia he’d be home in time for dinner.

“Hi, Dr Novak,” the boy says, walking to him with his hand extended.

Castiel takes it, shakes it without looking up, and waves to the chair in front of his desk. “Please take a seat. Mr…” he finally looks up.

“Uh, Winchester. Dean.”

“And why do you think I should hire you, Mr. Winchester?”

The boy blinks at him, and it takes him a second before he finally sits. He’s not wearing any kind of blockers, and, Christ, he smells _good_. “Oh. Right into it, then.” He chuckles, but stops when Castiel doesn’t succumb to his attempt at pleasantries. “Right. I, uh, I’ve been working as a secretary for Dr. Sutton for a coupla’ months now, and, I guess, I was interested in this position and your research.”

“Why?” Castiel asks, making sure to maintain eye contact. He knows it makes people uncomfortable, and it’s a good way to see who’s going to hold his gaze and who will not even try. He finds it a good judge of character. “You think you’re going to watch stag films all day and you thought it’d be a good way to make a living?”

Surprisingly, the boy chuckles. “Nah. If I wanted to do that I’d stay home.” He seems to catch on what he just said and straightens up, red blooming across his face. “I mean, no. I’ve worked tending bars as well for a time, and, uh… people are fascinating, you know? And when Roberta explained your work, well… it feels like it’s something I would find fascinating as well. People, you know? And how they relate to each other. It’s the same as watching them interact while they’re having a drink, except… they’d be naked I guess?”

Interesting. Castiel pretends to scribble something on the notebook in front of him before answering. “Well, not exactly. But I see your point.”

Winchester’s answer is a bright grin, and Castiel is suddenly very, very tired.

He clears his throat, “Mr. Winchester, it’s late. So I’m going to be honest.”

The grin falls at that, but Castiel holds up a hand. “Of all the candidates I’ve seen, you’re the one who seem to understand the purpose of this study the best. So I’m willing to give you a chance, but know that there will only be one.” Winchester nods in earnest. “I will not tolerate any mistake, this is very important work I’m trying to achieve here, and I need to be taken seriously. I value hard work and punctuality above all. Is that clear?”

Winchester nods again, this time more carefully. “I can’t thank you enough, Dr. Novak. Thank you!”

“Now please inform Roberta of the change. How soon can you start?”

Winchester’s almost bouncing out of his chair at this point. “I, uh, kind of gave my notice when I got this appointment. I can be here tomorrow morning.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow at that. As much enthusiasm could be dangerous, in the long run. An impulsive omega, though, he can admit he likes it. It’s new. Refreshing. “A bit over-confident, there, Mr. Winchester.”

“Hey,” Winchester shrugs, all smiles now. “If I don’t believe in myself, who’s going to, am I right?”

Castiel sighs. He won’t smile. He’s just tired, is all. There’s nothing endearing about Dean Winchester.

“I want you at your desk at 8,” he answers, waving Winchester out.

Dean Winchester nods again, and starts to walk away, but Castiel stops him before he can exit completely.

“And Dean?”

Because if he’s going to be his secretary, then he should start calling him by his name. It’s only logical.

Puzzled, Dean stops at the threshold to look at him.

“Wear blockers,” Castiel says, and he doesn’t look at Dean’s face as he says it, but at his paperwork instead. He’s never made that request before, but just under ten minutes with Dean in his office and he’s turning into an exhausted, emotional mess.

Dean doesn’t move, not for a long couple of seconds, before uttering a small, “Yes, Doctor,” and leaving.

Right. Now Castiel can start his work.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Things are going way better than Castiel had ever expected. Balthazar finally caved, and used his relation both in HR and with his Dad – the Provost of the hospital – to allow Castiel to start his research. He can use a limited amount of material from the hospital, an observation room, and, even if he doesn’t have any funding, he’s allowed to plaster flyers around to get some candidates for his study, and that’s all he needs.

And he has Dean.

He didn’t think Dean would be that good of a secretary. He doesn’t seem the type. Hell, with the blockers, people often mistake him for an alpha, sometimes even for a doctor. Dean is quick to point their mistake, though. He doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind the leers, doesn’t mind the remarks from the other doctors, the occasional hand on his bottom.

Or, he does mind, if the frown that he wears sometimes after being solicited is any indication, but at least he pretends he doesn’t mind. It’s a rare thing, a strength of character that Castiel appreciates.

And, really, it doesn’t hurt that Dean is gorgeous, has an easy smile that could charm the pants off of anybody that walks into their office, and can type faster than any secretary Castiel’s ever had.

Overall, Dean is good, which is something Castiel would never have thought he could have said about any of his secretaries. So he’s in a really good mood, today, when he enters his office at 8. There could almost be a spring in his steps, if he wasn’t as careful as he is, until, that is, he sees the frown on Dean’s face, thoroughly absorbed into a phone call.

He’s not talking, though, so the person on the other side must really be chewing him on.

“I understand,” Dean sighs, finally. “But I can assure you it’s not—” Another exhale. Now he looks angry. “Yes, Sir. Very clear. I’ll come and remove them right away.”

He spends a few more seconds with the phone on his ear, blinking, then hangs up more violently than anyone ought to treat a telephone receiver, in Castiel’s opinion.

“Asshole…” Dean mumbles.

Castiel’s eyebrows rise up to his hairline before he can help it, and he clears his throat. Dean jumps at the sound.

“Uh, Doc, I didn’t see you there. I was, uh, you know. On the phone. There was a matter of—”

Castiel raises a hand to stop him from rambling, which, he noticed, Dean has a tendency to do when he’s embarrassed. “Who was it?”

Now Dean’s getting red in the face. “Uh. The Provost?”

“You’re not sure?”

With a sigh, Dean sinks in his seat. “He wants me to remove our flyers. He says they’re inappropriate.”

Castiel blinks at that, unable to react any other way. “Inappropriate?”

“They have the word ‘sexuality’ in them,” Dean says.

His pout tells Castiel all the good he thinks of this excuse.

“It’s a study about Human Sexual Response,” is all Castiel can think to say.

“Yeah. You don’t need to tell me,” Dean counters.

They stare at each other for a moment, partly because Castiel can never look away from Dean’s gaze, it’s so mesmerizing. Silence becomes heavy, suddenly. Even with the constant buzz of everyone around them. They’re in a hospital, after all. There’s always people around.

“What about tonight?” Castiel finally asks. He’s so tired. “Do we have… someone? Anyone we can work with?”

Dean winces. “Uh. Not really. I, uh—”

“Can you finish a sentence without pausing every two seconds?”

It’s not that Castiel doesn’t like it. It just feels like he’s talking to a five year old. And he hates kids.

Dean just throws him an aggravated look. “I think I can find someone.”

“You think?”

“I can find someone,” Dean amends. A muscle in his jaw ticks, albeit slightly, almost imperceptibly. He’s angry. At Castiel.

“Good. That’s all I needed to hear,” Cas says, moving into his own work space.

He closes the door behind him, effectively ending the conversation. Dean was angry. At him.

Yes, Castiel is a bit of an asshole. He has to, in this environment. He’s had to be ever since he was old enough to understand that being weird and closed off only got you beaten up. He’s never minded someone being angry at him before.

Not that he minds Dean being angry at him, of course. It’s just… strange. For a millisecond, it occurs to him that he would have liked to _smell_ Dean’s anger. As soon as he catches himself, he shakes it off.

Time to prepare for their first session.

-_-_-_-_-_-

“So, miss…” Dr. Novak looks down at his file, “Bradbury. If you don’t mind we will start with some questions regarding your sexual history—”

Dean clears his throat. Seriously, the Doc cannot talk to people for shit.

Charlie-- who already looks so frightened she might be two-seconds away from fleeing the hospital and never coming back, not even to work -- gives Dean a careful side-eye.

“Which means it’s gonna be a bit awkward,” Dean smiles, as reassuringly as he can. Charlie knows him, they developed a sort of shy friendship, and he’s the one who convinced her to be here tonight, after all, in Novak’s office, so he tries to be as upfront as he can, without scaring her even more. “But we can assure you that everything will be kept anonymous, and that nobody will judge you. Alright?”

Charlie nods. Dean feels Novak’s heated, furious gaze on him, but his smile doesn’t waver. “We just need to know your background to establish a basis from which we, uh, can build our results.”

“Like when I do patients intakes,” she says.

Colors are coming back in her cheeks. It’s the first time she speaks more than two words since she came in Novak’s office. “Yeah,” Dean agrees. “Exactly like that.”

He’s stupid. She’s a nurse, he should’ve started with something she’s familiar with. “It is an intake form, sort of. It’s just more… nosey, let’s say. It will feel nosey, but I hope you’ll trust that every answer has a purpose.”

“Alright,” she breathed out. She’s avoiding the Doc’s gaze, but her smile is a bit more sincere, a bit more confident when she speaks next. “Lay it on me.”

Only then does Dean turn to Novak, giving him his best, shit-eating grin. Novak’s eyes twitch, as if he wants to roll them and barely manages to hold the gesture back.

Turning to Charlie, he sighs. “So. Miss Bradbury. Like Dean said, it’s of great importance that you be very truthful with us.” He’s blunt, yes, but when he pauses, something softens around his eyes, and he says, quieter than Dean’s ever heard him be, “We will not judge you, or what you did. And above all, we will never belittle your experiences, however shameful you think they might be.”

Charlie is struck silent for a bit. She only nods.

“Alright,” Novak says, looking down at his note. He taps his pen lightly against the blank intake sheet, leaving a small smudge of ink. Dean’s signal to start the tape recorder, which he does. Of course, they made sure Charlie was okay with it beforehand. “Let’s begin. Are you sexually active?”

Charlie gives Dean an ‘is he serious look?’ Dean just nods, encouraging.

“Uh, yes. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Novak ignores the question. “At what age did you lose your virginity and how?”

He’s really focused. If they were alone, Dean would dare a smile. It’s kind of incredible to find a man, an Alpha, be so engrossed in his work that he’s not in the least bothered by what they’re asking Charlie.

“Uh. I was seventeen,” Charlie utters, replacing a perfectly coiffed curl of hair behind her ear. “It was with… huh.” She stops to think, and lets out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I don’t remember her name. She was an Alpha, though. Older than me, by about three or four years. She took me out in her dad’s old chevy and we, uh…”

“You had sex in the back of her car?” Novak asks, looking up.

Not a hint of emotion on his face. Dean is floored by this. Idly, he thinks, he could have seen it coming. It’s been three weeks since he started working with Castiel Novak, and nothing, no one, can ever shake the oh-so-grounded doctor. Guy’s a gynecologist. He sees vaginas and channels all day long. Of course he’s not going to be flustered over this.

But still.

What they’re doing, Dean didn’t think it would be like this. So… awkward. Uncomfortable.

It’s _so_ interesting, though. It makes it easier to look past the smutty part, the nosey questions, and the weirdness of it all. Novak has a lot of faults, Dean noticed – he’s blunt, doesn’t care about anyone but himself, doesn’t like anything, and cannot suffer any mistakes from anyone. In short, he’s an asshole – but it can’t be denied that he has a lot of passion.

It’s nothing outright. He doesn’t show it, most of the time, but Dean thinks he can see it, hear it in the way he speaks of his study, of his regular patients sometimes. He really loves what he does, and what he sought to achieve. 

Right, now, though, Dean’s main job is to make sure Charlie can see it too, and doesn’t run away as soon as things get a little heated.

“Yes,” Charlie answers. She straightens up. “Yeah. Is that… is that okay?”

Novak finally looks up. Miracle of miracles, he looks a bit surprised. “There’s no wrong way to have sex for the first time, in itself. A lot of people lose their virginity in the backseat of a car. You’re fine,” he dismisses her. “Are you orgasmic?”

She blinks. Stammering a small, “W-what?”

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” Dean clarifies.

Shit, heat is slowly burning up his chest, toward his cheeks. He tries to push it down.

“Oh. Well, yes. I mean, does that count if it never happened while… you know…”

“With penetrative sex?” Novak asks, dispassionately. “Yes. This is one of the things we plan on studying. Does one type of orgasm prevails on another. We’ll maybe ask you to train yourself until you manage a vaginal orgasm, though, if you stay on.”

“Oh. Okay,” she says, voice small.

Dean can see she doesn’t know how to react. To be honest, he doesn’t know how to react, either. _Jesus_.

It’s gonna be a long night.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean is the one who put the wires on Charlie’s naked body, the way Dr. Novak showed him. On her breasts, to monitor the heart beats. On her temples, to monitor her brain waves. For now, that’s all they need, since they’re just started, as Novak explained, they need just the basic information to launch the study, give enough data to interest the Board, and maybe get some better equipment.

What the good Doc didn’t say was that it’s all they used because it’s all they had.

Dean’s not stupid. He saw the state of their ‘lab’ when they first settled in. The only good thing about it is that it’s sound proof, and it has a tinted mirror, from behind which they can observe their participants, while giving them some sort of privacy.

Novak is now sitting in front of the machines while they print away Charlie’s results, and Dean is standing behind him, trying not to look at Charlie’s hand dipping between her legs, but rather at the ups and downs of her brain pattern while she’s doing… what she’s doing.

He’s supposed to take notes. Christ. He doesn’t know where to start.

“Heartrate’s steadily going up,” the Doc mumbles.

Dean realizes only after a time that it’s his cue to scribble something down. Which he does. Okay. If Novak’s going to dictate stuff, at least it’s easier. He breathes a small sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing a little, for the first time since they entered the lab.

“Nipples are erect, cheeks, breasts and thighs are flushed,” Novak goes on, eyes never wavering from his chronometer, “we can safely guess that blood pressure is increasing.” He looks up at the two-way mirror, where they can see Charlie furiously rubbing herself, eyes closed and brows furrowed so tightly is could almost look like she’s angry. “Aaaand…” Novak whispers, “Plateau. Muscle spasms present in the feet, particularly the toes…”

Dean tries to jolt down everything as the Doc speaks. It’s… a lot to take in, to say the least.

He’s read everything the Doc documented through his Brothel Adventures, as Dean likes to call them privately, but he didn’t think it would be like this. So… clinical. And so weird.

They can hear Charlie’s heavy breathing now, thanks to the boom they’ve installed inside the exam room.

“Did you get that?” Novak asks.

Dean is too enthralled in his own sense of shame at watching his new friend masturbate to even consider an answer.

“Dean,” Novak turns to him, annoyed.

“Sorry,” Dean breathes, clearing his throat. Thankfully his shame stay internal, for now. He can’t feel any heat in his cheeks, which is good. “Plateau phase. At, uh…” he looks at his own chronometer, sitting awkwardly in his hand, “six minutes, forty-nine seconds. Got it.”

It’s not so much watching Charlie touching herself that’s awkward, actually. It’s watching Novak watching Charlie. Being in the same room with a man, an Alpha, watching another omega jerking one off. It’s just… surreal. There should be a sense of threat, in all of this, and there is, a little bit, but Dean thinks he’s steadily starting to get to know the Doc, and if he didn’t know better, hadn’t seen the picture of Novak’s wife on desk, he’d say the guy was probably a sexless robot with no feelings whatsoever.

Not really threatening, as first impressions go.

So yeah, it’s weird. It’s like watching porno movies with your grandpa.

Except that it’s not. Because – and Dean won’t ever admit it out loud – Castiel Novak is one hot piece of ass. First off, Dean saw him running around campus one morning, when he came in early to finish some typing. Guy does this every day, according to the early staff. He must be built like a friggin’ tank. Not to mention those amazing baby blues of his. How can anyone stand to look him in the eye when he addresses them, Dean can’t fathom.

Dean just looks in the vicinity of his forehead. So far it’s done the trick.

Well now he can only look at the back of Novak’s head, and at the whole exposed front of Charlie. Who’s steadily breathing harder, and harder, her toes curling around nothing as her arm goes faster between her legs, faster, faster, until—

“Orgasm,” Novak says, at the same time as Charlie stops breathing, her whole body twitching.

A wretched moan escapes her. Her hand slows down, but she doesn’t stop. Another grunt, a breath, and her body relaxes all at once, as if she’d been held by strings and they’d just been cut.

“Resolution,” the Doc concludes.

Dean writes all this down, everything Novak tells him after that, but he’s only half here.

Truly, he thinks, he wonders what he got himself into with this one.


	2. July 1952

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what?  
> This has been so well received and you've been so nice that I decided to post another chapter today :D  
> Next one will be next friday! 
> 
> Thanks for the support!

#  **July 1952**

Dean is not one to boast but, if he might say so himself, he’s doing a pretty damn good job as Castiel’s secretary.

And yeah, he’s calling the Doc by his first name. He figured, after their tenth session of the Study, that when you watch people get off next to someone, after a while, you’re allowed a bit of familiarity.

He just needs to remember to not call him ‘Cas’, as he took to call him in his head, because ‘Castiel’ was too much of a mouthful, even for his brain.

Now, they’re onto their twenty-fifth session, and they’re mixing it up a little. They started doing couples during session number fifteen, but since, as a rule, both participants don’t know each other, and are paired randomly, it’s difficult to find people who’d agree to do it. So tonight is solo time again.

“We need to be careful,” Castiel says, not even looking up from his notes.

“Hm?” Dean inquires.

Their newest participant, Ash, an omega and student in electronical science on campus, is stroking his dick, while stuffing two fingers inside his channel, and Dean’s been weirdly hot under the collar ever since this session started.

He can’t help it. This kind of looks like the way Dean jerks off himself, except for the position. The good Doc insists on their participants lying on their back, for now. Dean would probably be on his hands and knees, easier to imagine someone fucking him this way—

“Dean.”

Cas’s voice brings him back to earth. Or, rather, it makes heat spring from his lower belly to his head so fast he’s suddenly reminded that he’s in a lab, in close quarters with his boss right now, and he shouldn’t think about anything sex related, besides what they’re supposed to study.

“What?”

“I said, we need to be careful.”

“I heard,” Dean sighs. He’s sitting down, now, a spare chair the only improvement Castiel allowed to their after-hour office. He’s glad he is, or else he wouldn’t be able to hide the half-boner he’s sporting right now. “Careful of what?”

“Have you read Sigmund Freud’s theories?”

Dean shakes his head. “A bit. But guy’s a big knothead. No offense,” he adds, remembering that Cas is an Alpha too, after all.

It’s easy to forget, with the blockers, and the way the Doc doesn’t seem affected by _anything_ they’re witnessing night after night.

“Are you familiar with what he calls ‘transference’?”

“Uh,” Dean racks his brain for the little bit of Freud he’s read. “This is when patients develop feelings for their therapist, right? Something about, if you unconsciously want to, uh, jump your dad’s bones, and if you talk about it with your therapist, then you’ll want to jump said therapist?”

Cas gives him a look that says all the good he thinks of Dean’s explanation. “To sum it up crudely,” he says.

He doesn’t say anything else, though, lets Dean stew in his own juice, as he looks back at Ash in the other room.

“Why are you asking?”

Castiel makes a noise with the back of his throat. Dean identifies it as a vocal shrug, for lack of a better term.

“I’ve been thinking about our work, and the danger of transference. We’re watching people enjoying themselves on a daily basis. It’s bound to create a sort of sexual tension.”

Dean feels his eyebrows fly up to his hairline at that. “Oh.” He didn’t think about it, but it makes sense. Is that why he’s getting boners left and right all of a sudden?

“So you see,” Castiel goes on, and licks his lips, and Dean doesn’t want to think about what it means that he follows the movement, “I’m trying to think of a way to relieve that tension. I’ve tried masturbating after the day and before the session—”

Dean chokes on saliva at that.

“But I don’t think it’s working,” Cas finishes.

“O… okay.”

“So I think that the best way to avoid any more of that, and to ensure that we, ourselves, don’t transfer our desires onto our participants, that it would be best for us to participate in the study.” He looks up, his eyes finding Dean’s. “Together.”

Dean can’t look away.

“That way, all sexual tension, all threats of misconduct, would stay between us,” the Doc concludes.

In one big wave of embarrassment, heat comes to Dean’s face. He’s probably beet red. Crimson. Red as a fucking tomato.

“Uh,” is all he can say.

Ash lets out a strangled cry that sounds oddly like the name of someone before collapsing on the bed.

“Orgasm,” Castiel says, looking away.

He takes a note, take a look at his chronometer, and stops the EKG and EEG machines.

“You can go hook him off, now,” he says, as if he hasn’t just rocked Dean’s entire conception of what this job would entail.

So Dean moves. His boner’s gone, alright. Slowly, as if in a dream, he helps Ash out of all the wires, and into a robe. He thanks him, tells him they’ll get back to him, the usual shtick.

Castiel… the Doc just asked him for a fuck. Participating in the study. Together.

He’s gonna have to find another job, isn’t he?

-_-_-_-_-_-

“ _Ooh. Okay, hum… can I… can I kiss you_?” Charlie asks the other participant, dubbed AF001, since everything has to be anonymous.

Dean knows her name is Dorothy, that she’s a kindergarten teacher a few miles away from the hospital, and that she’s only doing it for the money, because she just bought a small house and her loan is causing her some trouble.

Charlie, on the other hand, was always fascinated by the science behind the study. Dean’s glad she was the first they asked to participate. So far, she’s said yes to everything. Which is a true blessing, because with everything else, Dean and Cas have had more trouble than Dean ever thought they would have.

Everybody thinks they’re a couple of perverts, and now rumors are starting to circulate, saying Castiel is only doing it because he can’t get it up at home and gets his rocks off by watching other people.

Dean doubt that Cas gets his rocks off doing anything, really.

Those people don’t know him. Not like Dean does. Or, rather, not like Dean thought he did, because now there’s the whole transference thing between them, and even though Cas never mentioned it again after the first time, it’s been on Dean’s mind, weighing him down day after day.

“ _Uh, sure_ ,” Dorothy whispers.

She’s trying to act confident, but in truth, both her and Charlie are nervous wrecks, if their crazy heartbeats is any indication.

And now they’re kissing, and Cas lets out a weird, interrogative noise at that.

“What?” Dean asks.

By now he knows that means something just occurred to the Doc and it’s about to fuck things up, but Cas wouldn’t bring it up if Dean didn’t ask, because, as he said once already, Dean is just his secretary, and there’s no reason why he’d tell anything to Dean, unless Dean asked.

“Should we have forbidden any form of intimate interaction? I’m not sure kissing wouldn’t skew the data…”

He looks down at his notes, scribbles something down, and hums.

“I don’t know. It can be an incentive, sometimes, you know?” Dean answers. “A way to… uh, I guess relax. I don’t think it changes anything.”

Dean wonders if Cas kisses his wife. He looks so alien, all the friggin’ time. Maybe he really comes from another planet. Wouldn’t be surprising, what with the whole space program thing happening these days. Maybe aliens sent him to observe human behavior. It would explain a lot of things.

“I’m not fond of this kind of gestures,” Cas finally says. “I think it could create bonds between the participants that would be hard to explain on paper…”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Of course it’s going to create bonds. So is having sex. It’s a part of life, you can’t take it out of the equation. Doc,” he adds the title when Cas looks toward him, his usual angry pout on his lips that says he’s ready to go into a rant. “I mean,” Dean goes on, “now that we’re talking about it, yeah, I think we have to include it in the study. Include the… the… uh, chemistry? Between people, you know. Because it has to have an impact on someone’s sexual response.”

Oddly, Cas seems to consider what Dean just said. A first.

He hums again. “I see your point. I’ll think about it.”

It would be the perfect opportunity, this discussion, to talk about what Cas asked him again. Talk about their participation in the study. Dean could play it cool, say something like, ‘ _would we be allowed to kiss if we were to participate?_ ’, like a joke, something to make it seem like Dean doesn’t care.

But his mouth is sealed shut, in this moment, his heart beating so fast at the mere idea of bringing the subject up that he can’t even move.

Maybe it was Cas’s attempt at a joke. Maybe it was a test. Maybe if Dean doesn’t bring it up, ever again, if he never thinks about it again, things will be fine.

-_-_-_-_-

Dean can’t stop thinking about it.

The whole kissing discussion brought something new to the table, and now he can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to have Cas’s lips on his. Fuck. That is so not professional. Dean almost wants to slap himself.

And, really, he needs to think about something else, or else Sammy is going to notice.

Speaking of Sam, Dean’s brother is lounging on the couch when Dean gets home to their tiny one bedroom apartment, reading something about astrophysics that gives Dean a headache just by looking at it.

“Too much of that and you’re gonna go blind,” Dean says as a greeting.

Sam doesn’t look up from his book, “Har har, Dean. Very funny.” And oh, okay, he’s angry. “Have you seen what time it is?”

“Late, I know,” Dean sighs.

“Dude, it’s the middle of the night,” Sam counters, sitting up. “Do you even get paid for this or are you also giving him your free time, now?”

“Sam…” Dean tries, but gets interrupted.

“No, Dean! You’re there earlier and earlier in the morning, and then you stay in later at nights now, and I don’t see any change in the bank, so I don’t know. What am I supposed to think?”

What Sam’s implying isn’t lost on Dean. He blushes, of course he does. Because if Sam even had the slightest idea of what Cas asked of him, he would be livid. He would want Dean to quit right away.

“The work is important. I find it interesting, and I get caught up in it. I’m sorry, Sammy, I don’t know what else to tell you…” He looks around, and his eyes find the clock above the old stove. Ten minutes past midnight. Jesus. “Shouldn’t you be in your bed by now? School’s important. More important than being a bit… crossed with me.”

And, anyway, Kid’s not even eighteen yet, he shouldn’t be snooping around in Dean’s bank account.

Sam huffs, pushing away from the couch. “No, it’s really not,” he mutters, before stomping out of the room.

Damn.

Dean’s life was getting better. _Is_ getting better.

So why does it feel like it’s falling apart?

-_-_-_-_-

“Are you going to come home later again, tonight?” Amelia asks.

Castiel can hear the slight reproach in her question, but pretends he doesn’t. She can’t understand the work, so he never even tried to explain. She would probably be so scandalized she would involve Castiel’s mother in this to convince him to stop, and he can’t have that.

“Yes,” he says, not looking up from his breakfast. “We can have a late dinner if you want.”

He finds it weird to look at his wife. She’s beautiful, and he loves her, her quiet presence. But these days, she’s been more and more vocal about her unhappiness with their situation, and he doesn’t know what to tell her.

Looking at her, it’s only risking that she’ll see he has no idea what he’s doing with their marriage, and he can’t have that either.

Her only response is a sigh.

After that, Castiel reads the papers, she sips her tea, and they don’t talk until he has to leave. Only then do they say goodbye to each other, with a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, and he’s out the door.

The truth is, he finds it more and more difficult to talk with her, only because his mind is otherwise occupied.

With Dean, mostly. With what Castiel asked him to do, and the subsequent feeling of shame that accompanied any thought of that night.

He wonders if Dean took him seriously, or dismissed it as one of Castiel’s stupid idea, like he usually does. Maybe, if Castiel doesn’t mention it ever again, Dean will think it was a particularly lame joke.

The thing is, Castiel does want to mention it again. Over time, he was able to really mull it over, and one thing appeared to him, clearer than anything else so far: it’s actually not a stupid idea. Everything he told Dean is true, including his concerns about transference. And bringing all that pent up sexual tension at home to Amelia? Absolutely out of the question. So truly, it’s all very reasonable.

He can see how it could seem otherwise to someone who’s not had the necessary medical training to understand all the subtle nuances of their work, though. If Dean doesn’t mention it again… then Castiel will have to bring it up.

All he needs now is a way to do that without scaring Dean.

So he thinks about it.

The hospital could almost seem empty at this hour, even with the few nurses quietly shuffling around. It’s Castiel’s favorite moment of the day. He promptly leaves his briefcase in his office, changes into his gym attire and goes out for his morning run.

When he’s running, his mind is clear. Clearer than it ever is. As he’s focused on the burn in his muscles, he’s not so focused on how to stand, how to school his face, how to speak. He can be himself, truly, the only moment in his days when he’s not Dr. Novak but just Castiel.

It’s a bit sad that it’s the only moments in his life where he feels human.

But dwelling on it won’t do Castiel any good, anyway. He’s never been good with people. He’s not about to start now.

Besides, he has a reputation, now. He’s a well-established obstetrician, has started a revolutionary program on fertility, and nobody cares if he’s a bit of an ass or not. So he shouldn’t care. He won’t.

Oddly, his run didn’t relax him as much he would’ve liked, today. When he joins the communal showers, his shoulders still feel tight. And nothing, not even the hot water can help.

There’s one unspoken thing on his mind. One unspoken person. Dean. Of course. Everything comes down to him, these days, and Castiel is a bit floored at how easily the omega insinuated himself into his life.

Meg was right. Castiel really needed an omega with him, to help him understand all the intricacies of the omega body. He thought he knew everything, before. He sees channels all day long, after all, but he never thought he could learn so much more.

One thing that troubles him, though, is that it shouldn’t matter what Dean thinks. It’s not like Dean has a degree of any kind. He hasn’t even finished his high school education. If Castiel were to give weight to his opinion, it would just hurt Dean in the long run. Other doctors, health professionals and all the people that matter won’t ever take him seriously. He can’t let Dean get used to this.

Oh, but what Dean is teaching Castiel, though… this you can’t learn in school. Dean has a way with people, a gift of some sort, that could almost seem magical. Castiel wouldn’t believe it if he hadn’t seen Dean in action.

Castiel envies him this ability, he’s alpha enough to accept that. And maybe that’s the thing. Maybe he’s too much of an alpha, lacking the necessary motherly instincts that would allow some empathy between him and his patients.

And it’s not like he needs it, anyway. He’s compassionate enough that he became one of the favorite omega and beta OB-GYN in the county, according to Omega Weekly.

Truly, that’s why he could be seen as jealous of Dean. But it’s not that. He just wishes, sometimes, that social interactions would come as easily to him as they do to Dean.

He cuts his inner rambling short when he comes back to his office, and Dean is not there yet. A quick look at his watch tells him it’s eleven minutes past eight. Dean should be here. He’s late, and Castiel’s heart sinks in his chest.

He told Dean he wouldn’t tolerate any lateness, dammit! What should he do, now? What is he going to do if he has to fire Dean?

“Sorry, Doc,” Dean bursts behind him, and Castiel almost jumps.

Dean is sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead, and he’s out of breath, as if he ran all the way there.

“I’m so, so sorry that I’m late,” Dean starts spewing as he enters the office space, dropping his things on his desk. “My brother was mad at me yesterday for staying here so late so I said I’d drive him to school this morning but there was an accident and we got stuck, then there was this homeless guy who fu—friggin’ pissed on my windshield, I mean… you wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had and--and I know you said you didn’t tolerate lateness but I swear, Doc, it’s the last time it happens, I can promise you that! I’ll be careful, I’ll come earlier, and Sam can take the bus, but just… please. Please…” he stops, licks his lips, takes a breath, “please don’t fire me. I really enjoy working here. I’ll do whatever you want. Please.”

When his verbal diarrhea finally stops, he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon, and Castiel can do nothing but raise an eyebrow at him.

“Mrs. Talbert will be here shortly for her appointment. Make sure everything is in order by then,” he says, ignoring Dean’s pleas.

All he can do after that is go lock himself inside his office.

Dean’s voice echoes through his mind, an infinite loop of his raspy, breathless voice, going, “ _I’ll do whatever you want_ ,” over and over and over again.

He sits. Shuffles a few papers on his desk. The hospital is coming alive, slowly, and there’s no way he can let his brain –his _knot_ , his mind helpfully supplies – stir him away from his work.

He won’t think about what he could have answered. He won’t think about how easy it would have been to tell Dean he wasn’t about second chances, as he said when they first met. But that Dean was an asset, and if he was willing to participate in the study, well… Castiel might keep him around.

What a cruel thing it would have been.

Castiel is glad he didn’t say anything. Glad, definitely, even if a pang of regret at the missed opportunity seems to pinch a nerve in his chest.

He won’t think about it anymore. He won’t.

-_-_-_-_-_-

It’s been almost a week since Dean’s been late to work, and the Doc isn’t talking to him.

Sam isn’t, either, ever since Dean told him he couldn’t drive him to school anymore, but at least Dean’s been able to come home a little earlier each evening, since they haven’t had any session since then.

It’s just freaking him out. Is Cas doing the study without him, now? Dean hasn’t compiled any data since their last session, but he doesn’t put it past Cas to just hide the paperwork from him until he has enough to punish Dean for a few days.

“Dean!” the Doc yells from his office.

Dean rolls his eyes. Does he have to scream like this when the door between Dean’s work space and Cas’s office is slightly open? Dean knows the Doc enjoys posturing, but nobody’s here with them. He doesn’t have to.

Pushing away from his desk with a sigh, he stands, taking the few steps between his desk and the door, and pokes his head through the threshold.

“Doc?”

“I need you to call Mrs. Klein,” Cas says, eyes glued to some papers, “her test results came back and I’m afraid they’re not good.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at that. “I never deliver diagnosis. You’re sure you want me to—”

“Yes. This is an exceptional case.” He finally looks up at Dean. He looks tired. “There’s nothing I can do for this woman. The damage to her ovaries is too important. If she was an Omega maybe I could…” he trails off, eyes unfocused. Dean waits, patiently, until the Doc gets out of his own mind. “It’s not important,” Cas says, coming back to Dean. “I can’t do anything. And you’re better with people than I am. If you’re the one calling her then maybe she’ll take it better.”

Dean can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “Are you giving me a compliment, Doc?”

Usually, the Doc would roll his eyes. He always does when Dean gets a bit cheeky. But this time, he sighs, his exhaustion even more pronounced now, and gives Dean a death glare.

“See to it, will you?”

Okay, not in the mood, then. Dean clears his throat. “I will, but, hum… Doc? Isn’t that something you tell people face to face? I mean, I’m a bit uncomfortable telling her nothing’s possible and then hanging up on her, you know?”

Another annoyed sigh from the Doc has Dean straightening up. He takes a step inside the office, trying to appear professional so that Cas will know he’s not kidding around this time.

“What more do you want me to say to her? If we just ask her to come because we have something to tell her she’ll know, anyway.”

“No, I know,” Dean amends. “But, once I break the news to her… I could suggest an appointment. Just so you could explain why she can’t have pups, you know? If she knows the reason, then it might help her. Help her grieve, maybe. I mean… you’re supposed to be the best fertility Doc in all the Midwest. If you can’t do anything for her, the least you can do is give her an explanation.”

If looks could kill, Dean would be dead by now. “I mean, I’m just sayin’. It would be nice. Wouldn’t do any harm, at least.”

The Death Glare is still firmly in place on Cas’s face, but Dean can see that he’s considering it. The Doc’s expression softens as he chews on his lower lip – _don’t look at it, don’t fucking look at it, Dean_ – and he finally releases a breath, somehow admitting defeat with it.

“Fine. Do that. Make sure you schedule her at a later time during the day.”

Dean lifts an eyebrow at that, a silent question on his face.

“Less people to see her crying when she leaves,” Cas answers.

Oh, so he’s thoughtful, after all. “You got it, Doc. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, call her.”

He’s already nose deep in his papers again. Dean turns to leave.

“Oh, and Dean?”

Dean shifts on his feet to face Castiel. The Doc hasn’t move. He’s even writing something down as he speaks.

“Schedule another appointment for a couple session. As soon as possible.”

Dean nods. Obviously, Cas doesn’t see it, but Dean knows he’s not expecting an answer. He just expects Dean to do as he told.

So Dean goes back to his desk, closing the door behind him. Are they okay, now? Is the Doc done with the silent treatment?

He doubts it, but at least, it’s a positive step in the right direction. If things go better with the Doc, maybe things will go better at home, too.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Are we really doing this?” Dean asks, looking at the lab room from behind the tinted mirror.

The room is only filled with the slow paced beeping of the monitors. Charlie is back, with Dorothy of course, since they’re paired with each other, now, and they’re about to have penetrative sex for the first time.

First penetrative sex of the study.

The last times they were together, it was just for masturbation. Once for oral sex.

Now they’re going all the way. All of them.

The Doc hums, looks up at Dean who’s standing behind his chair. He’s too damn nervous to sit. “Of course. We need to study all aspects of it. Did you think we wouldn’t?”

“No,” Dean blurts. “I mean, I knew it would happen, just… not so fast.”

The beeping gets faster. Charlie and Dorothy are kissing, one of Dorothy’s hand is sliding down Charlie’s body to finish its course between her legs.

“We’re already in trouble with the Provost,” Cas answers. He looks back at the girls, pushing his glasses up his nose with an adorable – _adorable, Dean, really?_ – squint. “I want as much data as I can before he shuts us down.”

“You really think he would?”

Cas gives him a one-shoulder shrug. “He could. I’d rather be prepared.” His sentence ends in a whisper, and Dean knows that he’s not so focused on their conversation anymore. “Alpha’s clitoris is growing. Penile functions are activating. Blood flow is steady.”

Dean jolts down some notes, but he won’t let their discussion end.

“What happens to me?”

“Hm?”

“What happens to me if the Provost shuts down the study?”

“ _I always forget how big you are_ ,” Charlie whispers, in awe, as she looks at Dorothy’s clit as it turns into a dick. A very impressive dick, if Dean might say so himself.

The beeping associated with her heartbeat goes up a notch. Dorothy smiles wolfishly at Charlie.

“I’d still be a doctor,” Cas answers Dean, unfazed. “I’d still need a secretary.”

“Okay,” Dean says.

It doesn’t reassure him in the least. Cas was doing fine before he launched his study. He didn’t need Dean. All he wanted was someone who wasn’t afraid of bodily fluids, and Dean was the right guy for this particular job. Other than that, Dean’s not sure he’s indispensable.

“And being shut down here doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go on with the study,” Cas goes on, squinting at one of the monitors and writing something down. “I was doing it before it was authorized, anyway. I would find a way.”

Uh. Dean blinks at the Doc, but Cas isn’t looking at him. “You’d go back to the whores, huh? But then your data would be skewed. You couldn’t wire the clients. Unless you enroll some of them, but I doubt they’d be okay with it.”

Cas shrugs again. He’s determined to see this study through, that much Dean knows. Thinks it’ll get him a Nobel prize. So Dean doesn’t doubt for one second that the Doc would find a way.

“If I have to do it myself, I will. I’m ready for anything.” He finally looks up at Dean again. “This is important.”

 _I know_ , Dean wants to answer, but his mouth is dry, all of a sudden, his tongue a useless lump that won’t move.

Castiel holds his gaze, grave, and only the sound of Charlie giggling makes him move and look away.

Fuck. This is like the transference discussion all over again, and Dean walked right into it. But now that it’s back on the table, well. Might as well actually talk about it, right? To dispel any doubt Dean still had on this, to know that his work isn’t resting on the fact that he won’t fuck his boss. Cas wouldn’t make him, right? He wouldn’t.

“Does that mean I’d have to…” Dean trails off.

He has to make sure.

The Doc doesn’t look at him as he answers. “If I have to, and if you want to keep working with me…”

He doesn’t end his sentence, but Dean knows what that means. His heart seems to skip a few beats inside his chest, and he finds himself frozen, standing behind the doc, as Dorothy lays over Charlie, about to enter her.

“But we’re not there, yet,” Cas simply says, as if he didn’t just change Dean’s whole perspective of him in a second. “The study’s still official for now. Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it?

“Plateau phase,” the Doc goes on as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

Dean writes it down. He does his job. It’s all he can do, if he doesn’t want to have a meltdown right there and then.


	3. September 1952

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you go too far into the story, now's a good time to remind you, if you haven't checked the tags, that Dean has sex with people other than Cas, and also, Cas is very married in this story, and we meet his wife. She's lovely, and you'll probably like her, but then this is a Destiel story, so if you know where I'm going with this, you know there's going to be some pretty obvious cheating. 
> 
> It might be adressed from time to time, because, as in real life, it's not as simple an issue as one might think, and the people partaking in it actually think about it and ponder about it. 
> 
> If this is not your thing, maybe this fic is not for you. You've been warned.
> 
> If you think you can take it (and, let's be honest, if you like my brand of fucked up stories), then go ahead, and enjoy :D

#  **September 1952**

_Blue. Everything is blue, and Dean is floating. He feels so good, so, so good, the hands running on his lower back to grip at his butt cheeks are firm, hot. Perfect. Powerful._

“Dean.”

_Powerful thighs slapping against the back of his own. So good. So, so good that he sighs, a moan trying to escape his throat as a hand grabs his shoulder—_

“Dean!! Gross!”

“Wha…” Dean mumbles, eyes blinking open.

Sam’s face is the first thing he sees. Frowning, he pushes it away. “Lea’me ‘lone.”

“Not if you’re gonna keep humping your sheets, I’m not. Wake up!”

Dean closes his eyes again. He just want to sleep! “M’not humpin’ ‘nything. Go ‘way.”

He was having a nice dream. He can’t really grasp what it was about, as his brain is slowly tuning in to what’s going on, but the feeling of it lingers.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late. Move!”

Sam keeps pulling at his arm, and Dean groans. There’s no going back to sleep then. Can’t a man sleep in on a Saturday morning, like everyone else? He hasn’t had a free Saturday in so long, he just wants to enjoy it, dammit!

“Late for what?”

“I can’t believe you forgot,” Sam spits, letting go of his arm. “Fine. I’ll manage without you.” He walks away - Dean hears his steps retreating - and lets out a furious, “Not like I’m not used to it by now, anyway,” before slamming the door to their room.

Right. The campus tour. Now Dean’s awake.

“Coming!” he calls after Sam.

He knows his brother won’t go without him, but ever since he started working for the Doc, Dean’s relationship with Sam has been strained, and he doesn’t know what to expect anymore.

Slowly, he sits up, legs falling on the side of the bed. Oh, and he’s sporting an impressive boner, that just now makes itself known, followed by a rush of lust in his whole body that makes him shiver.

He runs a hand on his face, and wonders when his whole life became this. This whole mess. Waking up, going to work, ending the days in the lab, watching people fuck, going home, feeling so horny it’s like he’s about to explode, and not being able to do anything about it because he’s too tired for a shower and Sam and him share the only bedroom in their apartment.

Fuck his life. He needs to get laid.

“Not gonna wait all day,” Sam yells from the other side of the door.

With a sigh, Dean gets up. He can take his brother to visit a few universities. Sam’s smart, and he deserves it. And Dean will keep nursing his blue balls. Things will get better, eventually.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Things take a turn for the best the next evening, actually.

The phone rings, and Sam answers, as he usually does, since only he uses the phone to chat with his friends, but this time, he hands the phone to Dean with a smirk on his face.

“For you,” he says, smug.

Dean raises his eyebrow at him, questioning, but the damn kid just shrugs and skips to the couch.

“Hello?” Dean says in the receiver, slightly unsure.

“ _Heya, Brother_ ,” comes Benny familiar voice, music to Dean’s ear.

“Wow, Benny, hi! How’re you? It’s been a minute!”

“ _Tell me ‘bout it_ ,” Benny answers in his usual southern drawl. Dean almost melts on the spot. He missed the fucker! “ _I’ve been doin’ fine, you know. I’ve just rolled into town, figured you’d want to catch up_.”

The way he says ‘catch up’ implies a lot more things, and Dean’s fondness for the Alpha suddenly hits him again. He really missed him. And fuck, yes! He does want to _catch up_.

“Man, you don’t know how much. Where are you staying?”

Sam, from his place on the couch, gives him a knowing look. He pretends he’s reading, but he’s actually listening to the whole thing, the little shit. He knows why Benny calls. Of course he knows. At least he doesn’t seem angry about it.

“ _The Palmer Motel, just south of Main. Meet me in an hour?_ ”

“Uh, sure,” Dean answers. There’s no way of hiding his giddiness, even if he tries to keep his voice leveled. His blush surely doesn’t hide anything from Sam. “Can’t wait!”

“ _It’s a date_ ,” Benny laughs.

They exchange a few pleasantries, but really, Dean’s too eager to be able to say anything interesting. Benny seems to sense it, and if the way his drawl gets more pronounced, Dean knows he feels the same.

When they hang up, Dean almost runs to his room to get ready. Sam’s teasing laugh follows him all the way there.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Oh, fuck! Fuck! Yes! Right there!”

Okay, Dean can’t shut up during sex. Sue him. But it’s been a while, and Benny is a really good fuck, and when Dean’s barely holding up, head on a pillow and ass in the air while someone plows into him like there’s no tomorrow, well… he kinda loses his mind.

Like, a lot.

Benny laughs, a full-bellied laugh as he keeps slapping against Dean, and Dean thinks, idly, he hasn’t felt this alive in months.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Charlie smiles, a knowing smile that doesn’t bode too well for Dean, but his ass is pleasantly sore, and his own stupid grin tells everyone present in the hospital cafeteria what happened to him the night before, so really, he can’t hold it against her.

“Someone’s happy.” She winks at him as she sits in front of him. “Had a good night sleep?”

“You could say that,” he drawls.

She gets his meaning, and a small laugh leaves her lips. “I’d think watching people… do the Do every night would be enough to make anyone happy for a life time.”

Dean groans around his mouthful of eggs. “You’d think.” He shakes his head, and lowers his voice. “Worst case of blue balls in my entire life, Charles. I swear. It’s a wonder I held on for as long as I did.”

“You could’ve asked me, Darling,” whispers someone in Dean’s ear.

Dean jumps, turning his head so violently he gets dizzy for a second. Dr. Balthazar Adler straightens up from behind him, answering his glare with a shit-eating grin.

“You mind if I join you?” he asks, but sits before either of them can answer. “Please, Dean, entertain me. I haven’t had a good shag in a while, so I might as well live vicariously where I can.”

Charlie hides her laughter into her glass of orange juice. Dean just sighs. He’s walked in on Dr. Adler and Cas chatting from time to time, and knows the surgeon won’t be offended by anything.

“No offense, Doc, but I don’t kiss and tell.”

Speaking of the Devil, Cas just entered the cafeteria, and Dean sees his frown from afar when he spots Adler with Dean and Charlie. He strolls purposefully to their table.

“Well, if you write it down,” Adler answers, “you can say it’s for the Study. Then I can read all about it. Pretty please?”

“Stop harassing my staff,” Castiel chastises Adler when he gets within hearing range.

“I’m not,” Adler smiles up at him. “Dean was just about to tell us a very interesting story. Care to sit down? Jolt down some notes, perhaps?”

Dean groans. “Please, Dr. Adler, don’t—”

“Please, call me Balthazar,” Adler answers with a smug smile. He’s entertained, now, alright. “And what? You don’t want Cassie to hear all about your fabulous night of Love?”

Some people around them are starting to pay attention, and Dean’s head duck in shame.

When he dares a look at Cas, the Doc is staring straight at Adler, a look of deer-caught-in-headlights on his face. Something incredible happens. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s speechless. Doc Novak, the Castiel Novak, the asshole who always has something to say, is struck speechless.

Adler winks at him, and the usual frown of unhappiness is back on his brow. “It’s not of my business what Dean does in his free time.” Then, with his head held high, “Excuse me.”

And he leaves.

“Well, would you look at that,” Adler ponders. When Dean looks his way, he’s not grinning anymore. He’s just smiling, like he knows something nobody else does, and he’s pretty pleased about it. “Interesting.”

Dean doesn’t even want to ask. He just gulps the rest of his eggs, and goes back to work before Novak tears him a new one.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Cas is in an awful mood. As Dean figured, the intrusion of Dr. Adler this morning into his life didn’t go over well with Novak, so now Dean’s taking the brunt of it.

“Dean!”

For the hundredth time that day, Dean gets up from his chair, and strolls into the Doc’s office, “What?”

He’s a bit angry, of course he is. He hasn’t been able to sit and do some proper work ever since this morning, because the Doc keeps barking his name every five seconds and giving him more and more work as the day goes on.

“I’m still waiting for the report on Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s appointment,” the Doc barks at him without looking up from his paperwork.

“Yeah, well, you gave me your notes only ten minutes ago, and you keep calling me, I haven’t had a minute to sit down and work properly today. So you’ll have to wait.”

He’s about to turn around and leave to actually do the things he has to do when the Doc sneer at him, “And here I thought you wanted this job.”

Time stops for a few seconds. A wave of anger, the likes of which Dean’s never known before, not in this way at least, overpowers him. He whips around, something ugly swelling inside his chest.

“You know what, Doc? You can do it yourself. I’m going home.”

He’s proud of how calm he still sounds, even if his voice wavers.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” Novak calls after him as Dean exits the room. “Dean!! Come back here!”

Dean doesn’t listen. Instead, he gathers his things, shrugs on his coat – keys in the right pocket, check – and rounds his desk.

The Doc is out of his office, now, and judging by his face, he’s pretty pissed.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business, Doc.”

He struts out with purpose, heart beating a mile an hour. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe he’s walking out of his job, in broad day light. He doesn’t want to quit, no, but today, he just can’t take the Doc’s mood. And if he doesn’t leave…

Well, nothing good is going to happen. He has to get out of there.

“It is my business when you’re leaving MY office without MY permission!”

Novak catches up with him as he reaches the elevator. Dean’s stuck with the Doc until the doors open.

“No wonder you couldn’t keep a secretary if you kept treating them like you’re treating me now,” Dean spits at him.

“Looks like you’re not lasting too long, either,” Novak shoots back.

“You know, I’ve read the files. None of your secretaries lasted more than three months. You need me, Doc, so don’t try to scare me.”

Novak scoffs. “The only reason I need you is because of your promiscuity. Nobody else decent would do your job!”

“Promiscuity?” Dean asks, anger now getting replaced by a weird feeling of betrayal. “Who are you to judge me? You don’t know me! You created the Study in the first place, so who’s the pervert?”

“If you’re comfortable enough to tell the entire hospital when you’re getting fucked, I don’t see how else to call you!”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean exclaims, and his brain catches up with his mouth a little too late. He ignores the nickname that slipped out of his mouth, and hopes the Doc will ignore it too. “I don’t see why what I do in my own time is any concern of yours! You’re the one who first talked about transference, you know what the study would do to us! I needed that night out, I can’t help it if your only friend in this hospital is a nosey jerk!”

The Doc steps toward him, now, menacing, posturing like a crazy Alpha, which Dean’s never seen him do. Suddenly, he’s scared. They’re both alone in the little nook that holds the elevator, in a corner of the hospital that doesn’t see much traffic at this time of day.

“Be careful how you speak to me, Dean,” Novak groans close to his face. “The only reason you’re getting any respect here is because you work with _me_!”

The doors to the elevator ping open, which is good, because Dean doesn’t know what to answer. He didn’t think Novak was one of _those_ guys. He didn’t think those words could come out of his mouth, and yet.

“Whatever you say, Doctor,” he says, as cold as he can.

He escapes the conversation, then. The way he feels about the Doc has changed forever, it seems, and it hurts a lot. He avoids Novak’s eyes as the elevator doors close on him, and tries not to cry until he reaches his car.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean comes back to work a week later. Turns out he was having Pre-Heat Syndrome, hence the meltdown. He won’t give the Doc the satisfaction to apologize about it, though.

For the first few days, their relationship is strained, at best. Dean doesn’t want to go to work in the morning anymore, and if it wasn’t for the Study, he would have quit that day when they fought.

They keep working, though. They keep on with the study.

Oddly enough, even though they didn’t put any new flyers up yet – and Dean’s working on new ones that would spare the Provost delicate sensibility, thank you very much – they manage to enroll two new couples.

They’re testing positions and their impact on orgasms, both on omegas and Alphas. So far, the results have been really impressive, and the Doc is in a very good mood. It seems to be proving that omegas have better orgasms.

Dean can already imagine how the whole medical community will shit themselves once they publish their findings. If they ever publish their findings, that is. The Provost is still on their asses about the whole thing. And he doesn’t seem like the type of Alpha who’d be open-minded enough to admit omegas have it better than he does. 

But tonight, things are going great. Which is why, obviously, they have to have one of their earth-shattering conversation.

Dean is just finishing writing down their new Alpha’s private info on a little card, that they’ll then archive inside a safe in the Doc’s office, when the Doc hums, as he does when he gets an idea, and Dean has to bite his lips not to ask what’s up. Not that he doesn’t want to, obviously, but he’s still pissed at Novak. He won’t give in now.

And the Doc doesn’t seem to mind, because he cracks first, “Do you think we should only study Omegas for a while?”

Dean huffs, “Why would we? I thought we had enough data on masturbation. For all secondary genders.”

“I know,” the Doc says. His eyes never leaving his graphs. The session’s over, but they’ve been reviewing the new couple’s charts for an hour, now. “But since we’re taking a closer look at their orgasms, it seems like a good idea to see if they can also get different ones from other stimulations. Not just penetrative sex.”

Okay, that’d be interesting. They’ve studied orgasms by manual stimulation, but even when they studied people’s reactions to oral sex, it was never with the reach of climax in mind. Only Alphas came during those sessions, which, if Dean was asked, he would have said it was unfair.

So yeah, he’s on board with this idea, but things are never that simple with the Doc.

“I don’t know, Doc,” he says, scratching the back of his head.

“Castiel.”

Dean was about to add something, but this stops him in his track. “What?”

“You’ve already slipped once,” the Doc says, side-eyeing him knowingly. “I think we’ve established that you don’t think about me as ‘Doc’, so the least I can do is let you call me by my name. I think we’re acquainted enough that it won’t be too strange.”

“Uh,” Dean lets out. He frowns, because of course Novak would bring their argument out at a time like this. “I was hormonal, you know that. It doesn’t count.”

“Still,” Castiel says, looking down at his graphs again. “I think it’s time we get a bit familiar. Considering the nature of our work.”

“Right. Well… huh, Castiel,” Dean tries out loud. He doesn’t like how the name rolls off his tongue, but if the Doc insists… “I don’t know if we would get anything different from what we have now. From a data standpoint. I mean, we have observations from manual stimulation and penetrative sex, so…”

“People use toys, too. And other body parts. Feet.” The Doc looks at him again, straight into Dean’s eyes. “Tongues. That sort of things.”

“Uh, sure…”

“And I would like to compare the different organs from which they orgasm.”

Dean’s mind draws a blank at that. Sometimes the Doc can be a little cryptic. “You mean what sets them off when they come from, uh, say nipple stimulation, or… or pain?”

Cas does a double-take at that, blinking at him. “Nobody can come from nipple stimulation alone. Nipples aren’t inherently sexual.”

A full-bellied laugh escapes Dean. He hasn’t laugh that hard in a few weeks. “I don’t know if you were sheltered when you were young, Doc, but I can assure you, people can come from a good number of places.”

“I’ll believe it only when I see it.”

And oh, that sounds like a challenge if Dean’s ever heard one. Suddenly, Dean’s dizzy with the absurdity of his next thought. He could demonstrate. He managed, once. Alone, it’s difficult, and it mostly helped get him to climax when he needed something else to push him over the edge, but if someone plays with him? Yeah, he’s done for.

Showing that to the Doc, though? He’s not sure it’s a good idea. Would it be crossing a line?

And would Castiel take it as a sign that Dean wants to participate in the study?

Because Dean doesn’t. No, sir. But now that the idea is here, planted in his mind, he wants to do it. To prove the Doc wrong, and show him that even though Dean doesn’t have any fancy diploma, he knows things the Doc doesn’t. That he’s _valuable_.

“Alright,” he breathes. He hasn’t made a decision, yet, but his mouth has other ideas, it seems. “I’ll show you.”

_Fuck. Shut up!_

“What do you mean?”

_Shut the fuck up_. “I’ll show you,” Dean insists, getting up from his chair.

He walks to the other side of the room, into the lab part, and starts unknotting his tie.

“You—you don’t have to,” the Doc stammers.

Stammers! Dean’s smug smile can’t be contained. He unbuttons his shirt, as quick as he can. He knows if he slows down, he won’t have the courage to go through with it. Oh! But how excited he’s feeling right now! He loves it. Loves feeling this way.

Once he’s naked from the waist up, he sits on the bed they set in the middle of the room. The wires are still lying haphazardly there, amongst the tousled sheets. Dean picks them up, hooks them up, two on the top of his chest, two on his temples, and two on the side of his groin, where the thighs meet the waist, and he’s ready to go.

Now all he needs is a little help. The Doc followed him, looking a bit apprehensive, but interested. Dean grabs his wrist, and pull the Doc’s hand on his chest.

“Go ahead.”

“Dean…” the Doc starts. But he doesn’t say it’s not a good idea. He doesn’t protest, in fact. Just licks his lips. “If you lie down it’ll be easier for you,” he simply adds.

He’s in Doctor mode now, alright, but there’s something else behind the blue of his eyes, a spark of excitement that Dean’s only seen him exhibit when he’s working on something particularly amazing.

And isn’t that a stroke to the ego?

“Alright,” Dean just says.

He’s quieter, now. Time seems to have slowed down. He lies down, as he’s told, eyes never leaving Castiel’s face.

“Close your eyes,” the Doc says.

Dean does what he does best when he’s feeling a bit nervous. He tries for cockiness. “What if I don’t wanna?”

“Close your eyes.”

It’s an order. A thrill goes through Dean, and he obeys.

There’s the distinct sound of the EEG and EKG machines being switched on, and Novak’s hand is back in the center of his chest, splayed there, just feeling the beating of Dean’s heart.

Dean focuses on the heat on that hand, slowing down his breathing. He wriggles his toes inside his shoes, flexes the muscles in his thighs. Tries to imagine heat going from his chest to his groin. He so rarely has the time to do that, to just enjoy his body while getting ready to get an orgasm. Usually, he just has to go fast and hard, just for the release of it, because of Sam, because he doesn’t have time, because he doesn’t really feel like sex but just it just seems like having an orgasm is a good idea.

But now, he has to concentrate. He’s trying to prove a point, after all.

It helps that the blockers are fading a little, like they usually do after a long day at work. Smelling himself again after a whole day without any familiar smell helps him stay grounded.

The Doc’s brand must be a better one that the one Dean buys, because he never smells like anything.

Novak’s hand finally moves, the pressure of his palm decreasing as he runs the tip of his fingers around Dean’s right pectoral.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

Dean hears genuine curiosity in his voice, so he answers with a smile, “How good your blockers are working, even now.”

“Why would you think about that?”

The fingers stop moving for a second. Dean takes it that the Doc’s startled. His cheeks are heating, just thinking about what he’s gonna say, but he can recognize when Castiel’s asking a real question. “I, uh… I’m just thinkin’ it’d be nice to smell you, is all.”

“Smell sensitivity could skew the data.”

Dean scoffs. “Talk dirty to me, Doc.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

Unable to keep his cool any longer, Dean has to open his eyes to at least glare at the Doc. “Yeah, ‘cause I was trying to get in the mood, to, you know,” he waves toward his crotch.

The Doc tilts his head on the side, a sign that he doesn’t see what Dean’s talking about, as if the guy’s never had sex in his life.

“You—” Dean starts, and stops himself, because he’s not about to ask Cas about him going at it with his wife when they’re edging dangerously close to cheating territory, “Okay. Just…”

He pushes up away from the bed, and moves to the back of the room where the small sink they use to wash their hands before hooking the participants up is standing.

“What are you doing?” Cas asks, the same confused frown on his face.

“If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right.”

The pressure’s not good at all, the faucet is old, and small, but Dean ducks his head under it anyway, splashing his torso, his arms, everywhere he can reach, to wash off the blockers.

It doesn’t do much of a job, but when Dean towels off, he can smell himself a little bit better, so it’ll have to do for the Doc as well.

“Okay, your turn.”

“This is pointless,” the Doc says, “I told you it would skew the data. We would need one session with smell, and another without, perhaps, but this—” He chews on his lower lips. “I can’t risk interfering in your arousal, if you’re going to prove me wrong.”

He’s set in his ways, Dean knows that, but this sounds a little more like pleading, and a little less like his usual scientific argumentation.

“Remember kissing?” Dean tries, changing his angle. “We decided it was part of the courting. If two people who don’t know each other aren’t attracted to each other, they can kiss all they want, it’s not gonna make anything rise, if you follow my meaning… we don’t have them wear blockers either, so why would this time be different?”

Castiel sighs, considering. He starts mumbling to himself. “It’s true we didn’t take scents into account here… if we were to start another round without scents being taken into account it would take months…” he trails off.

“It’s not important for what you’re looking to achieve here. First order was to get the board interested, right? Once you get decent funding and proper equipment you can do several different rounds, you can study whatever you like. But that’s not what we’re doing now. Now, we’re just establishing the basis.”

Why is Dean insisting like that, he has no clue. He’s gotten laid not that long ago, and spent a week in bed humping his mattress with a heat toy up his ass, so why is he so adamant on smelling the Doc, now of all times?

Sam is going to be so pissed when he comes home.

The Doc doesn’t answer this time. He just shakes his head, like he’s mad for understanding what Dean means, and almost stomps to the sink.

He takes off his bowtie, his glasses, his undercoat and his shirt with precise efficiency, then scoops the water with a hand and washes his arms, chest and armpits. He’s no ducking his head under the water, Dean notes, but somehow Dean’s thankful for it. He doesn’t think he could handle a wet Cas right now, not when he’s discovering his jacked up runner body for the first time.

God, he can’t imagine how the Doc’s thighs must look if the top of his body is _that_ nice to look at.

The Doc towels off as well, and holds his arms akimbo, giving Dean a quizzical look. “Good?”

Dean licks his lips, mouth dry as the Sahara. “Uh…” He steps closer, takes a quick sniff in the direction of the Doc’s chest. Christ, he hasn’t smell something that good in… forever. “Hum. Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, it’ll do.”

His dick seems to agree wholeheartedly with that statement, and excitement takes over again. Going back to the bed, he hooks himself up again. After a second of hesitation, he takes off his pants, shoes and socks as well, and sits back on the bed. He needs to be comfortable for this. Not naked, not in front of the Doc. Not yet. His undies will have to do.

The Doc follows in silence. The mood has changed.

“Lie down,” the Doc says.

Dean does, his eyes closing before he can be told to do it. This time, the faint smell coming from the Doc is a new sensation that takes over Dean’s body. He can smell himself getting excited, and he really didn’t need the beeping of the machines, coming from the other room, to tell him the beating of his heart is steadily rising up.

“Excitement phase?” Cas says, like a question.

“Doc…”

“Sorry. Habits.”

Silence falls on them again, and the expectation of soon feeling the Doc’s hand on him takes Dean again, his whole body almost vibrating with excitement. He takes a breath, exhaling through his nose, but he barely has time to finish letting it out that the Doc’s fingers are on him again, trailing down to his navel.

The last of his breath whooshes out of his mouth without his consent.

The hand goes up, steering something inside Dean’s groin, to stop shy of his left nipple. It circles it with a brush of fingers, before disappearing again. Then it’s back on the other side, circling Dean’s left nipple. His dick twitches, perking up, interested.

It’s an effort to imagine those same fingers trailing along his shaft, but it does the trick. Dean is positively en route to being aroused properly. It should be weird, doing that with his boss, but he’s dreamed about someone touching him so much for the last week that this is close to heaven.

Benny’s good, but Benny never takes the time. This is different.

“You’re very responsive,” Cas whispers.

His fingers are playing with the skin around Dean’s right nipple, as if he’s making his fingers walk on the skin delicately.

“Just out of a heat,” Dean breathes. “I guess I still have some remnants of—” he gasps when a fingers grazes his nipple.

Oh. He didn’t realize how much he needed the contact until it was gone, already.

There’s a spike of arousal in his scent that overpowers what’s left of the blockers on his body, drifting up to his nose. It’s sweet, like vanilla and cinnamon, and all the things Dean loves.

He would’ve hummed if he was with anyone else, but this time, he just swallows it down.

The Doc lets out a small huff through his nose. He smelt it too. Dean can’t help smiling smugly. “Like it?”

Cas clears his throat. “Your scent is very agreeable.”

“Thanks,” Dean answers. He was aiming for flirty, but it came out as awkward. “Yours is…” he turns his head, trying to catch a whiff of the Doc’s scent.

He does, just a little, something spicy and fresh that he can’t pinpoint, but it sure doesn’t smell like arousal. At all. Uh.

“Would help if you could get in with the program.”

A pinch to his left nipple answers him. His next inhale stays stuck in his throat, the sensation going straight to his dick. He’s hard, alright. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to be able to touch himself right now!

But he can’t, he remembers. _Proving a point right now, Dean_. Proving a point. _Hold on_.

“I am,” Cas answers. “I can smell it. Can’t you?”

“Your blockers must be way better than mine,” Dean tries to shrug. One of the wire brushes his arm, and he goes still. He doesn’t want to disturb the instruments. Although they’ve seen some pretty agitated couples in there, and the wires never failed them, so he shouldn’t be worrying about it now.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Cas orders.

His hand disappears from Dean’s skin, and Dean hears him step around the other side of the bed. The mattress dips, and there’s suddenly heat above Dean. The Doc is straddling him, but he’s not sitting on him.

No penile stimulation. Right.

His voice is way closer to Dean’s face that Dean’s comfortable with when he speaks next, “Is this okay? If my scent gland is closer to your nose it might work better.”

Oh. _Oh fuck_. Dean has to bite on his lips to hold on from moaning outright. From up close, the spicy and fresh scent of the Doc is still here, but there’s something different about it, something like the smell of wet ground after a storm, earthy and powerful.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean breathes. “Yeah. I can… yeah.”

His hips buck without his consent, the beating of his heart going up at a crazy rate. “Sorry.”

“Involuntary spasm?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. It’s working then.”

Yeah, it’s working, alright! Dean’s so hard it hurts. He needs to be touched. Anywhere. Now.

“Can we go back to it?” He suggests.

Silence answers him. He can see in his mind’s eyes the Doc lifting an eyebrow at him.

“Tell me when you switch to different phases,” he just answers.

“’kay. Hum… it’s too late for excitement.”

“I got that one.” Right into Dean’s ear. Christ. “I doubt you’ll go beyond Plateau, though.”

The heat from Cas’s face disappears, like he straightened up.

“You know I always like a challenge, Doc.”

The Doc just hums as an answer, and a single finger is on Dean again, circling the left nipple. The little nub hardens in answer. _Aureola’s diameter is expending_ , Dean thinks idly. He’s been working here too long.

Dean focuses again, imagines what it would feel like if the Doc was to lower his ass on Dean’s dick. It’s not too hard to imagine, since he can feel the heat of the Doc’s body above his pelvis. His dick twitches, and he has to fist the sheets to hold up from bucking his hips.

It keeps going this way for what feels like hours. The Doc keeps playing with the flesh around his left nipple, slowly getting closer and closer to the nub of flesh, until, finally, he presses it between two fingers. Dean can’t hold the twitch in his legs this time.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes.

Heat goes up to his face immediately. Christ. He doesn’t like the fact that he gets as red as the Russian flag whenever he’s embarrassed, but the embarrassment adds to the hotness of everything in this moment, so, for once, he doesn’t complain.

The beeping of the machines echoing his heart are going crazy now, but it’s almost background noise. He can feel what he’s imagining, feel the heat coiling inside his guts. He’s almost there, almost to—

“Plateau!” he exhales when the Doc’s fingers tighten around his nipple, the pain of the pinch going straight to his groin.

Cas hums, pinches harder. Dean’s mouth opens. The sensations are dizzying, now, the telltale feeling of warmth gathering in his groin telling him he could come, he could, if the Doc goes on, if someone touches his dick, if something more happens.

It’s steady, but there, insistent. Constant. Hence the ‘plateau’ name.

All of that, from one nipple only, Dean feels proud. He feels proud, but the other nipple, the right one, is feeling neglected. Just the ambient air in the room now is enough to make desire run along his body.

And then Cas blows on his left nipple, and Dean’s gone.

Or, his brain is gone, took off on a vacation somewhere, and a mushy plate of sex goo took his place, all in the span of a millisecond. Oh! How he wants the Doc’s mouth on him, right now.

His cock is trapped, yearning for contact, as if it has a mind of its own. The friction of his underwear against the skin is barely enough. He needs something. He needs, fuck, that mouth, God, he needs that mouth, the sole thought of it bringing his arousal to such a state that he can barely breathe.

His smell is getting pretty potent, overpowering everything. Except the Doc’s scent, who, when Dean manages to get a whiff, could almost rival his own in how good it smells to him. And the two scents together? It’s something else.

Something better, bigger. Delicious. Dean could live off that scent.

It’s just a combination of things that take him to that place where he’s just shy of climaxing, at the edge of it, really, and only a little push could take him there. He won’t give up, not now, not when he’s so close to prove the Doc wrong, not when it feels so good.

If he doesn’t come, he’ll be so mad.

The Doc keeps up the good work, tweaking Dean’s nipple, rubbing his thumb on it, to the point of pain, even, while not paying any attention to the other.

And then. Oh, then.

The Doc’s tongue is on Dean’s right nipple, and Dean ready to explode.

“Yes!” Dean breathes. “Oh, oh,” _Fuck_ , he holds that one back, teeth clamping on his lower lip until only a faint _ffff_ sound comes out, then, “yes!”

Cas’s tongue circle the little nub, playing with it. Dean’s thigh muscles and abs tightens, his toes curling with how good it feels. Castiel adds a bit of teeth, the smell of his arousal now right up Dean’s nose.

And Dean explodes, “Orgasm!”

Now the Doc’s outright sucking on his nipple, but Dean doesn’t care. Pleasure courses through him, from his groin to all of his extremities. His cock pulses as he releases his load, and with a last gasp, all his muscles unlock, like a puppet with its strings cut.

The Doc finally pulls away, and this time, he sits on Dean’s thighs.

Dean’s eyes finally blink open. They stare at each other, the smell of arousal still permeating the air, making this whole situation suddenly very uncomfortable.

“So I think we’ve proved that particular point,” Dean lets out.

He can’t help the gummy smile on his face. He’s just had a great orgasm, he’s still basking in the afterglow.

Amazingly, the Doc just shrugs. “I guess you did.”

Dean ignores the stiffy he can see poking through the Doc’s slacks in his peripheral vision.

They stare into each other’s eyes. And stare. And stare. And the Doc start laughing. It’s just a chuckle, at first, but it’s infectious, and soon, they’re both laughing their asses off, buck naked from the waist up, sweating like pigs, and smelling like a whoring house on a good day.

If this is what science is like, Dean never wants to stop practicing.


	4. October 1952

#  **October 1952**

Their relationship gets better.

It’s awkward, the first couple days after the Nipple Thing, but the tension between them seems to abate a little.

Dean doesn’t forget the bad things the Doc told him, but he’s willing to forgive. For now. 

There’s still the weight of what Novak said about participating in the study. But now that Dean knows what it’s like to have the Doc’s hands on him? He’s actually considering it. But of course he can’t let his hormones make all the decisions. He’s actually really enjoying their work, so it has a scientific basis, at least.

Christ, he can’t believe he’s actually thinking about it.

First off, Doc’s married. Dean’s never actually met Amelia, talked to her once or twice on the phone to tell her they’d work later than planned, but that’s about it. He doesn’t know her, not yet, so he doesn’t feel bad, per say. He just… doesn’t want to be one of those omegas who break couples.

There’s already enough rumors going on about him, because of the nature of their work, of his biology, and the fact that he’s a real treat – cause a guy needs to know his assets, Dean’s not about to hide the fact that he knows he’s good-looking – and adding “Doc Novak’s side-piece” on his resume isn’t about to help his cause much.

Not that that’s what it would be. It would be strictly professional. But if it happened to get out, if even just Dr. Adler knew about it… Dean would be fucked. In more ways than one.

So, yeah, after thinking about it for a couple days… Dean won’t bring it up. If it’s the only way to save his job, then yes. He loves the Study, loves what he’s learning, so he’s not about to turn down an opportunity like this one just to save face. But he won’t seek it out, either. As long as what he’s doing now is enough, he’ll be content to keep going.

If the Provost stops trying to sabotage them, that is.

He hasn’t approved a single flyer, and Dean’s tried everything, every euphemism in the book to make what they’re asking family friendly, but Doc Adler Sr. won’t budge. Cas is on Dean’s ass almost every day as a result, because he needs more data. And to get more data, they need more participants.

Dean’s way in over his head with this one, and he doesn’t know what to do. There’s just so much their actual participants can do. There’s Ash, Dorothy and Charlie, who are regulars. The other couple participants bailed after a couple of sessions, which basically rendered any data on them obsolete. The Doc said they could ask the prostitute he first used, but she’s an omega too. They need more alphas.

And Dean doesn’t know how to ask those without it sounding like a lewd invitation. He doesn’t need more of a reputation than he already has.

Which is why, after a while, he decides to find Dr. Adler Jr. He’s Novak’s friend. And he’s a real dog, so he’s bound to find the idea interesting.

“Heya, Doc,” Dean chirps as he sits in front of Balthazar Adler, once he finds him in the cafeteria.

Somehow the guy spends all his time in there.

Adler gives him a quizzical look, “Dean. Cassie’s not around.”

“Nah, he’s delivering a preemie. Gonna take a little while. I was looking for you, actually.”

Dean gives him his most impressive grin, and waits for the curiosity to appear on Adler’s face.

“This is very suspicious,” Adler says, pointing his fork at Dean. “I’m not sure I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Oh, trust me, I know you’ll love it.”

“Even worse, then.”

Dean chuckles. “It’s about the study. I know Doc Novak doesn’t tell you anything about it and you’re dying to know what happens in there, so… now that we’re in need of more Alphas…”

Adler shakes his head, “You figured I’d want to participate.”

“Of course.”

“No.”

Dean’s taken aback, but he pushes on. They really need more Alphas. If he doesn’t find one for tonight, Novak’s gonna have his ass. “It’s all very scientific, Sir. We monitor your heartrate and your physiological responses. And it’s all anonymous. The person we’ll have you work with won’t know your name, and you won’t know theirs. Just like a regular study. Except we need you to… you know. Have a little fun.”

Adler keeps eating, and for a time Dean thinks he won’t answer. But as he chews, his eyes find Dean’s again, and Dean can see that something’s change.

“When you say _the other person I’d work with_ , you mean…” he trails off.

“I mean we’re studying couples, yeah.”

Hook in. Now Dean just has to reel him in.

“Are you mad?” Adler whispers, bending over to Dean so they won’t be heard. “You know what my Dad would do to Cassie’s work if he heard about it?”

“Which is why you won’t tell him,” Dean arches an eyebrow, and Adler huffs. “Listen, Doc,” he says, deflating when he sees Adler is shaking his head. This isn’t going the way he planned. “This is Castiel’s life work. You know how important it is to him…”

Adler glares at him.

Dean continues. “We need more participants but the Provost won’t let us advertise the study. So only way to go forward is by word of mouth. And until we get someone, uh… respectable,” Adler rolls his eyes at the word, “on board, then we won’t be able to push it further.”

The Doc considers, eyeing him, before he sighs. “I know. I know all of that, Dean, but…” he trails off.

“But what? You were the one who wanted to know what happens in the lab. I’m giving you the opportunity!”

“Does Cassie know about it?”

“About me asking you?” Dean shrugs. “Not yet.”

“Great.”

“But he’s busting my balls about finding a new Alpha, so I don’t think he’ll mind too much.”

Dean has no other argument, if he’s honest with himself, so he just shuts his trap, and waits, waits for his words to take root in Adler’s mind. The Alpha looks around, everywhere but at Dean, sighs, lets out a small, “Bullocks!” before turning to Dean again.

“I’m not saying yes just yet,” he warns, a finger up in Dean’s face, “but when would you need me if I did?”

“As soon as possible,” Dean answers. He tries not to show how relieved he is. “I can schedule a session tomorrow night. I’d have to check with the other participant, but he’s mostly free every evening, so…” He sits back in his chair, trying to exude a confidence he doesn’t truly feel. “I mean, it’s all for science, Doc. You of all people should know that. You know Castiel. You know it’s nothing dirty, or bad. What do you say?”

“For science,” Adler huffs, unamused.

There’s another moment of silence between them. The cafeteria is busing with conversations, noises of chairs being pushed around, footsteps all around them. But Dean’s focused. He needs Adler to say yes. He needs him to—

“Fine,” Adler finally bursts. “Fine, you overgrown puppy! I’ll do it. Schedule something for tomorrow before I change my mine.”

Dean won’t let himself shoot his fists in the air in triumph, but God, how he wants to. He doesn’t hold back his grin, though. “Thanks, Doc. You won’t regret it.”

“Now, shoo,” Adler says. “My eggs are cold. Happy? I want to finish my breakfast in peace. Go away.”

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“No,” Cas says, and Dean deflates a little, but he doesn’t let it defeat him.

“You said we needed another Alpha! Doc Adler’s ready for it! I’ve already scheduled Ash for tomorrow. Come on!”

“You shouldn’t have done it without my explicit permission,” Cas angrily retort.

He slams his whole body into his desk chair, hand coming up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“Well, you didn’t want me to put flyers up in public places, so what should I have done, huh?” Of course he’s pissed as well. What else could he really have done? “At least we trust Adler. We know he’s not going to rat on you. And maybe he can show others that’s it’s not as bad as they think. He’s respected here, right?”

Cas just sighs. It’s a long minute before he utters, “I don’t want to see him naked.”

“Yeah, well, you and me both, but when need must…”

Cas nods. He knows Dean’s right, and it seems to bother him more than anything else. “I know. I just wish it wasn’t so difficult…”

“I know, Doc. But at least that’s something.”

“It won’t be enough, you know that as well as I do.” Cas looks up at him, exhaustion obvious in his eyes, in the bags under them.

“Then let me put some flyers up elsewhere.”

“No.”

“Just one place?”

“No.”

“Doc.”

“No.”

“ _Cas_. Hear me out.”

The Doc glares at the shortening of his name, but doesn’t say anything. At least it got his attention.

“I know, alright?” Dean goes on. “I know I don’t have any qualification, so who gives a toss about my opinion, right? That’s what you try to tell yourself, but you know I’m right most of the time.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the Doc says, turning around in his chair so he won’t be facing Dean anymore.

“I have to since you won’t at least tell me when you think I’m doing good. Someone ought to from time to time…” Dean retorts, and Cas snorts. “Listen, we’re not gonna get any more guinea pigs here. You know it, and I know it. I mean…”

“I’m sure we could find some people.”

Sighing at the Doc’s stubbornness, Dean lets his mouth run. For once, his brain almost warns him before he can say something stupid that he might regret. Almost. “Yeah, well, short of you n’ me, I don’t see who else.”

Silence answers him. Embarrassment takes over as soon as Dean realizes what he said. Of course he’s thought about the way the Doc sucked on his nipples the other day. He thinks about it almost every day, in fact, but nobody needs to know.

And the Doc especially doesn’t need to know that Dean sometimes entertain some pretty fucked up fantasies about the two of them, and the lab, and it became so prominent in his mind that just the sight of the wires gives him an uncomfortable chubby.

“So you’re considering what I said,” Cas asks.

He doesn’t turn around, still facing the window behind his desk.

“I’m just saying if it’s just two couples and us, we won’t go too far with the research,” Dean amends.

He tries to play it cool. The Doc can’t see the blush on his cheeks, at least, and that’s a relief.

“But you’ve thought about it?”

And, Gosh, won’t he let it go, already? “Of course I thought about it,” Dean blows in a breath, angrier than he intended. “You’ve been hustling me for days, ‘find an Alpha, Dean, we need new Alphas!’,” he mimics, lowering the pitch of his voice. Cas finally turns around, a confused and somewhat vexed frown on his brow, “so yeah, there were one too many times when I wanted to tell you we had one, right here,” he points at Cas’s desk with his two hands, “but, Doc, with all due respect, as much as I enjoy the study and the work that we’re doing here, you’re _married_.” There, he said it. “And I can’t… I can’t do that to your wife.”

Cas considers him. Dean feels hot from the way his eyes rack over him, slowly, with intent. Doc’s thinking about what Dean said, that much is clear, but there’s something else hidden behind his glasses. Dean can’t see what it is, and it unnerves it.

“Was that all the reservation you had about the matter? My wife?”

“Well,” Dean can’t look in the Doc’s eyes anymore, “that and, and, you know, I’m an omega. You’re my boss. People talk. They’re already saying that I—”

“They already think we sleep together, yes,” Cas interrupts. “So that’s not a problem, is it?”

Dean looks up at that. A cold shiver runs down his back. “It is for me. _Doc_. I have standards. As long as I know it’s not true, that I’m not a-a home wrecker, then I’m good. They can say whatever they want. But the second we cross that line—”

“Let me be very clear,” the Doc sighs. He leans over his desk, all serious and cold, fingers folding neatly against one another. “I am not looking for a lay, here. I’m a scientist. There’s no _line_ to be crossed. And maybe it got all muddled up in your head, because it’s too complicated a subject for you to fully comprehend the intricate details of it, but my work comes first. If I have to participate because I have no other choice, or because I think it’s the best thing to do to not find myself involved with one of our participants, then I will do it. Just because you happen to be on the other side of this particularly difficult equation doesn’t make you special, Dean.”

Dean snorts, but the Doc’s words hurt like Dean didn’t think they could. He’s talking to Dean like he’s just a dumb child who doesn’t understand anything about what they’re doing, and it weigh inside his stomach like lead.

“You’re saying I’m too stupid to get that it wouldn’t be cheating? If it’s for science then it’s fine?”

“No,” the Doc sighs. “I’m saying if I had to choose, your name wouldn’t be first on the list. Or on the list at all, for that matter.”

And _that_ is the final blow to Dean’s ego.

“That’s low, even for you, Doc.”

“What did you think, Dean? That I would start _an affair_ with you? Please,” and he huffs a little laugh. He never laughs. Never. It sounds fake, and so violent it’s like someone plunged a knife into Dean’s stomach, stirring the entrails until Dean feels he could hurl right there and then.

“Fine,” he manages the word through gritted teeth, anger threatening to overpower him. “Sorry I said anything. I won’t mention it again.”

Novak holds his gaze. Dean does too, but he looks away first. It’s like he just lost some sort of twisted game.

“One bar,” the Doc says.

Dean startles. “What?”

“The flyers. You can put them up in one bar of your choosing. We’ll see how it goes and then maybe we can plaster them other places.”

“Okay.”

Is he serious? Is the Doc really going to go back to business after the discussion they’ve just had? Everything was going so well, everything was swell, better than they’ve ever been. But now? Fuck, Dean isn’t sure he can still come back tomorrow morning. He’s so disgusted with the Doc, and somehow, shameful about the whole thing, that he can’t move. He can’t pretend this whole shit show didn’t just happen.

“You can leave, now,” the Doc tsks, impatient.

He’s not looking at Dean. He’s pretending to write something down, that much Dean notices. He knows Cas better than anybody in this hospital, now. Maybe better than his wife, but he guesses it doesn’t take much.

“Please, go,” Novak finally sighs, annoyed, as he looks up. “I won’t tell you another time.”

Dean doesn’t bother saying anything. He leaves. Novak’s always been an asshole, so him doing things to remind Dean of the fact shouldn’t come as a surprise. Dean vows he won’t let it be a surprise next time it happens.

He won’t get involved as much anymore. He just does his job, and that’s it. And for tonight? His job is done. So he grabs his coat, makes sure everything is in the right place if Novak needs to find something, and bails.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“You left early yesterday,” Novak says off-handedly as he notes something on his chart.

Of course he would bring that up now, of all times, when they’re starting Adler’s session with Ash. Obviously, Dean avoided him today, but still.

“I left way after the hour explicitly stated in my contract, so if that’s early for you, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“I just mean you usually finish typing the notes I gave you before you leave,” Novak says in a sigh, as if Dean is the one being difficult. “That’s all.”

“ _I can’t believe I said yes to this_ ,” Adler groans on the other side of the glass.

He’s sitting naked and awkward on a side of the bed. Ash, who’s used to the nudity by now, is sprawled beside him, humming thoughtfully. “ _I mean you’re kind of prissy for my taste, so I get it._ ”

Dean winces. Adler lets out a scandalized gasp. “ _Prissy? Me?_ ”

“ _Relax, man_ ,” Ash laughs, “ _I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Are we doing this or what?_ ”

“yeah well, I didn’t feel like it,” Dean answers the Doc. “I guess being told by their boss to go fuck themselves would do that to a person.”

The Doc has the gals to be offended. “I never said—”

“ _Cassie!! I can’t do this_ ,” Adler burst, standing up.

One of his hand is covering his genitals while the other is trying to unhook the wires.

“Well shit,” Dean whispers.

Cas just shakes his head, puts down his clipboard and starts pushing away from his chair, but Dean stops him.

“Let me. You’re shit at talking to people.”

Novak huffs, “I’m perfectly capable of handling my friend, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean snorts. He points to himself, “Case. Point.”

Novak just grunts, but waves him off. As if to say, _go ahead, it won’t work anyway_.

“We’re not friends,” he mumbles as Dean gets out.

Oh, how Dean would love nothing but to punch him in the face!

“What’s up?” he asks, summoning some cheerfulness from God knows where as he enters the lab.

“I can’t,” Adler says, shaking his head. “This… isn’t working. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry,” to Dean, first, then to Ash, “I’m sorry, young man, it’s not you. I just can’t.”

“Okay, relax,” Dean says, walking as slowly as he can.

Ash just watches them, flopping on his belly, hands under his chin.

Dean tries to appease Adler with both hands in the air. The guy’s like a frightened cat. “Let go of the wires, please, D—Sir.”

Adler stops fidgeting with them, and Dean takes the opportunity to reattach the ones he pried off. “I know it’s not easy the first time, okay,” he says as he works. “And our friend here,” he points a thumb at Ash, “might be a bit intimidating, since he’s more used to it than you are. But,” he interrupts when he sees Adler open his mouth to protest. He pushes him down, until the Doc is sitting on the bed again. “We’ll get through this. It’s for science, right?”

He tries for a smile, makes eye contact with Ash and tries to bring him in the conversation.

“Yup,” Ash says. “Science is fun. You’re breaking new territories, man. You and me. It’s always a bit scary, but you won’t let a good old case of the jitters hold you back, right?”

Dean could kiss him right now. He’s never heard so many words coming out of Ash’s mouth at once, and it’s a bit surprising, but he won’t say anything about it.

“I’m not scared,” Adler bristles. He’s playing with his hands now. “It’s just bloody hard to get turned on knowing my—” he cuts himself off. “Knowing people are watching.”

Dean holds his gaze. “Seriously? The other day you ran after me for two hours until I listened to your story about a ménage à… twelve. Or whatever. Don’t tell me you don’t like it when other people watch.”

“It’s not the same…” Adler answers. His eyes dart to the two-way mirror, then come back to his lap.

“Okay. Hum…” Dean tries to think as fast as he can. What can he do to settle the mood, he wonders? Ash is an omega, so once he gets going, his scent alone should do the trick for Adler. And the guy smells good, besides. Even Doc Novak said so.

But Ash looks uncomfortable as well, now. “I mean, Dean, man, I won’t force it on him if he doesn’t want it.”

“I know, I know.”

Adler gives him an apologetic look. He’s about to leave. Dean can’t let him leave. The study is only still alive because of this, he knows it. He knows that if they don’t have anyone else other than their three main participants, the study is dead, and Dean’s interest in the job with it.

He needs this, goddammit!

“Alright, what if, huh,” he rubs the back of his neck, “God, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but what if I riled this guy up, huh?” he points at Ash. “What if you could smell him? Maybe it would help?”

Cause, yeah, there’s no way Dean is touching Adler in any way.

Adler blinks at him like he sprout another head. Ash raises his eyebrows in surprise, but he doesn’t seem put off by the idea.

“You mean…” Adler trails off.

“Come on, you keep hitting on me,” Dean nudges his side, “don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to see some omega on omega action in the flesh, huh? I bet it’d help you get going. What do you say?”

Shit. Fuck. _Dean, what are you doing?_ He tells himself. But it’s done. He wonders what face Novak is pulling now, but it sure as well mustn’t be the pretty kind.

“I’m not adverse to it,” Adler says, slowly. He clears his throat, “I don’t know if it would do anything for me in this situation, though.”

“Let’s try it, anyway,” Dean says, with a confidence he doesn’t feel. He eyes Ash, “You’d be down for it?”

Ash shrugs, as best as he can in his position, “Always there for a good time, man.”

“Okay,” Dean licks his lips. He tries not to look in the direction of the mirror. Shit. Now he’s self-conscious. “Right. So.”

Ash pushes himself up, and closes the distance between him and Dean before Dean can say anything. The kiss is small, almost chaste, if not for Ash’s tongue poking at Dean’s mouth. Dean hums in the kiss, trying to show Adler he’s enjoying it. First he need to relax enough to be able to enjoy it, knowing that Novak is watching them.

He kind of gets why Adler is so stressed out.

“Okay, lie down,” Dean instructs, pushing Ash away as subtly as he can.

He’s not really into Omegas, as it is, but he’s been so horny for so long that anything will do. Besides, Ash has a dick, which is Dean’s favorite thing in the world when it comes to sex, so he can’t complain too much.

Anyway, this isn’t for him. It’s for Adler.

He can’t do this all dressed up while they’re naked, though. If he wants to make them comfortable, he has to get rid of a few layers. He sheds the lab coat Novak insists he wears inside the lab, then his tie and undercoat, throwing them on a stray chair near the bed.

He also slips off his shoes, because he knows how Novak feels about shoes on the very expensive sheets he bought for the experiment. Dean didn’t see the point at first, but once he’s tested them, he realized that they were much better than scratchy hospital sheets.

When he’s done, he crawls toward Ash, pushing his thighs apart and setting on his knees between them. He purposefully does not push his knees in Ash’s balls, because he doesn’t intend on touching anyone’s genitals tonight, but he squeezes Ash’s thighs all the same.

“Close your eyes, Buddy.”

“Right’o, Captain.”

Dean huffs a laugh. Thankfully, Ash doesn’t put up a fuss, and does as he’s told. Hell, if only judging by his erection slowly filling against the skin of his navel, he’s enjoying it.

There’s no need to talk after that. Dean has to focus not to shake, and he’s glad he’s not wearing any wires, right now.

He can hear two sets of heartbeats coming from the half-opened door to the back of the lab, and he does his best to ignore it. He can’t turn Ash on too much. It would, as Novak would say, skew the data. Ash’s excitement phase always come quickly, so he’s not too worried about triggering it. He just has to avoid pushing him into plateau.

Gosh, what has he got himself into?

He shakes the thought as soon as it crosses his mind, and set to the task at hand.

Under his hands, he should say. First, he slowly runs his hands on Ash’s thighs, going up, framing his cock, then down. Ash sighs at the contact, getting comfortable against the cushions.

“Alright,” Adler whispers. “I can get into that.”

_Well, good for you_ , Dean wants to retort. But of course he doesn’t. Focusing on Ash, he lets his hands roam. Up to Ash’s navel, then back down. Then back up to his torso, and down again. Just a little slide of fingers against skin. It’s usually what feels good to him. He hopes it feels good to Ash, too.

He doesn’t mean to let his thoughts wander, but as he’s tweaking a nipple and Ash hums at the contact, he’s suddenly picturing Novak doing the same to him. Once the mental image is here, it’s hard to shake it.

Now he’s getting hard, and isn’t that the worst thing that could happen to him yet?

Thankfully, Adler doesn’t say anything when the first hint of Dean’s arousal permeate the air. It mingles with Ash’s aroused scent enough that Dean hopes Adler won’t be able to spot the difference once Dean’s gone.

To distract himself, he bends over, and kisses Ash’s throat. Having Ash’s scent in his nose is sure to wash away the thoughts of Cas, right?

It doesn’t work as well as he’d like, his cock now stiffly hard, straining against his pants. He ignores it. Instead, he turns his head to Adler.

“Go ahead,” he says, low. “Kiss him.”

Adler nods, almost in a daze, and bends over. Dean pulls away as Ash’s and Adler’s lips touch. Ash’s hand surges up to the back of Adler’s head.

There. Dean’s done.

As discreetly as he can, he crawls away. Adler takes his place eagerly, and the monitors beep faster. Dean doesn’t even try to get his clothes and shoes back. He just tip-toes back to the other room, closing the door behind himself.

Novak is staring at him when he looks up.

Dean’s cheeks are on fire. “What?”

“If that’s what you call ‘handling friends’, no, I can’t say I’d be good at it,” Novak says with his usual poker face.

If it was anyone else, Dean would have given him a smooth, ‘shut up’, but Novak is his boss, so he doesn’t. Instead, he takes his seat again, adjusting his erection. Novak’s eyes follow the trail of his hand when he does.

“I just did what I had to do. Adler was about to leave.”

Novak hums like he’s not convinced.

“It did the trick,” Dean insists.

Novak shrugs, and goes back to watching the monitors. “Excitement phase for subject AM002,” he says, dispassionately.

Dean jolts it down. He’s not all there, though, first because watching Adler get his rocks off isn’t something he’s willingly doing, it’s more out of obligation for the study, and second because his erection won’t go away, his own smell so potent to his nose now that it maintains an endless circle of self-arousal.

After a couple of minutes of this, Novak seems to notice as well.

“Do you need to get out?”

“I’m fine,” Dean utters, face blooming red again.

Novak isn’t looking at him, but he raises an eyebrow anyway. “I can smell you through your blockers.”

“Yeah, well, they’re cheap and it’s late, okay?”

“Right.”

“I’m sorry, but short of wiping it out right now and getting myself off, I can’t do anything about it.”

“You shouldn’t have let it affect you in the first place,” Novak answers.

The way he’s saying that, all casual, not even looking up from his notes to address Dean is seriously starting to piss Dean off.

“I’ll whack off at home, it’s _fine_ ,” he insists. “I can hold on, I’m not an animal.”

“We’ll need to improve your vocabulary if you’re going to help me write our conclusions,” Novak sniffs in distaste.

And that’s it for Dean. He’s pushing forward, a strong ‘fuck you!’ on the tip of his tongue when Ash almost _yodels_ , cutting them both.

The monitors are going crazy. Novak looks at the EEG and EKG machines. “Subject OM001 reached orgasm.”

Adler follows right behind, grunting as he plows into Ash with all the force he can muster. Dean’s never seen him as disheveled. And he’s never heard the Doc so embarrassed when he says, “Subject AM002 reached orgasm, at,” he clears his throat, looks at his chronometer, “seven minutes, and twenty-three seconds.”

“Resolution,” Dean adds, when Adler flops next to Ash, his flaccid dick bouncing on his thigh.

“Right,” Novak clears his throat again. “You can go hook them off.”

It’s difficult to do with a hard-on, but Dean manages. He sends Doc Adler and Ash on their way, thanking them for their effort. It’s only when he closes the door behind them that he realizes he’s even harder than before.

Must be the smell, he figures. Adler might not be super attractive to him, but there’s no denying that his scent and Ash’s mixed together is a good fit. Fuck, he needs to blow his load. He hopes Sam’s asleep soundly enough that he can slip into the shower without waking him up.

He puts the wires away, pushes the machines in a corner of the room, and decides to change the sheets as well, now that he’s here. Maybe once the room is cleared of the scents, his little problem will go away, or at least won’t bother him long enough that he’ll be able to go through the debriefing with Novak.

Every single move he makes is agony. His cock jumps every time his pants brush against it, which is to say all the time, and finishing making the bed turns into a matter of life or death.

_Christ_! He’s sweating when he’s done.

“You’re not fine,” Novak says behind him.

Dean almost jumps around at the sound.

“Is your heat coming back so soon?”

“None of your business,” Dean snaps, walking around the bed when he’s done fitting the new sheets, carrying the old one in the service hamper.

“It is my business when it affects your work.”

He’s so fucking calm. The asshole.

“It’s not affecting my work,” Dean answers through gritted teeth.

“If you took the decision to touch Ash because of it, then I’d say it does.”

With a sigh, Dean turns to the Doc, eyes rolling automatically. “That’s not why I did it, and you know it. If you went out there, Adler would’ve bailed. And were would that leave us, huh?”

“So you’ll be okay for the debriefing,” Novak asks, pointedly look at Dean’s crotch. “And to drive home? I don’t want you driving into a tree just because you can’t admit your judgement is clouded.”

“I’m okay, as long as it’s fast. I’ll be fine, I’ll jack off at home, and I’ll be here tomorrow bright and early, alright?”

Novak hums, thoughtful. “Didn’t you mention your brother and you slept in the same room?”

How does he remember that? Dean suddenly regrets all the friendly discussion he had with the Doc. Sometimes it’s so easy to forget that Novak could throw it all back in his face… he doesn’t remember half of the shit he told him. 

“I’ll manage. I’ll take a shower.” _And why do you care?_ He wants to add, but that would be unprofessional.

He wants to laugh at the thought. They’re so past anything professional right now…

“I have a solution for you, if you’re willing to listen,” Novak says.

It’s like nothing matters to him, does it? He’s standing there, hands hanging on the side, all relaxed as if nothing weird was happening right now. As if they weren’t discussing Dean’s boner.

Dean’s seething, and he doesn’t trust himself to talk, so he just tilt his chin up, showing he’s listening.

“It would take a couple of minutes to create a participant’s card in your name,” he raises his hand at that, knowing Dean too well by now to know he wouldn’t try to protest, “We can do the intake form tomorrow. We hook you up, and you can… take care of your problem. Right here. And then we can conclude the evening like we were supposed to.”

Dean would lie if he’d say he’s not tempted. Having to masturbate at home is more difficult than he thought it would be. He can’t do it every night, that’s for sure. But that’s why he would soon need to, if they keep going with the study. He knows himself too well. He likes sex, in all its form, and that includes watching other people get their rocks off.

He can’t deny that the science behind everything is a bit of a turn on as well.

Shit. He can’t say no, can he? He doesn’t want to.

He’s been holding his breath, he realizes suddenly. He wants to say yes. God help him, he’s about to.

“Fine,” he exhales. “Just this once.”

“If your name is registered in our data base, you can help yourself every time you feel it’s too much,” Novak suggests.

Dean shakes his head. “Yeah, well, tonight’s tonight. We’ll see about the rest another day.”

Novak nods, seemingly satisfied. “Get ready. I’ll take care of your card and then we can begin.”

He disappears in the other room, leaving Dean alone to his thoughts.

Alright. Okay. Dean’s going to do this. He’s going to masturbate in front of his boss. For science. Nothing bad to it, right? That’s what they do regularly, watch people jerk off, so why would it be different this time?

_Because it’s you, and it’s Novak_ , a little voice in his head supplies.

Dean groans. He doesn’t need to think about it too closely. It will only fuck him up more, and he’s already well past his capacity to think straight tonight. He’s so fucking horny it hurts. He needs release, and fuck everything else.

It takes him barely a minute to get undressed and put on one of the robes they keep for their participants, and too soon, he’s stepping out from behind the modesty screen. Novak steps out of the other room at the same time.

“Do you need help with the wires?”

Does he? Yeah, his hands are shaking so badly he doesn’t think he can do a proper job of it. “Yeah. If you could…” he trails off.

“Of course.”

Novak’s all sweet now. Professionally so. Dean hates it right away. When it’s directed at him, it feels so fake. He doesn’t say anything, though. He lets Novak hook him up, in the most impersonal way.

Something ugly itches inside Dean.

His heartbeat starts echoing in the room. It’s all done. Novak, having nothing else to do in here, leaves.

Dean knows the drill. He hopes Novak doesn’t see the second of hesitation before Dean disrobes and lies down. It feels like forever, but it’s just flesh, he reminds himself. Novak sees hundreds of naked people every day.

His dick is hard, and really, it’s not complicated. But something holds him back, nagging at him, clawing inside his chest. A shame he can’t quite pinpoint the origin of, but when he tries to touch himself, it rears its head, interested, and prevents him from going farther.

“I… Doc, I can’t do it if you’re out there.”

There are a few seconds of silence, and the door opens. “It’s standard procedure,” Novak says, popping his head through the threshold.

“I know,” Dean mumbles, hand now hiding his crotch. “It’s just… you know me, I know you’re there, it’s… it’d be easier if I could see you being all serious and not… not—”

“Pleasuring myself to the sight of you doing the same?” Novak huffs, incredulous.

“Sort of. I know you wouldn’t,” Dean says quickly. “But it’s… yeah. Sorry.”

His heartbeat rises, at the same time as heat comes up to his face. “Please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t…”

“Urgent. I get it,” Novak sighs. “Give me a few seconds.”

Dean hears him rummaging around in the room, and a moment later, he reappears, clipboard and pen in one hand, dragging _his_ chair around with the other. He sits, a few feet away from the bed.

Dean doesn’t feel better, far from it, but now he can’t go back.

“Okay,” he croaks, licking his lips.

What he does first is close his eyes. He relaxes his body, legs parting slowly as he breathes in, and out. In, and out. He lets the arousal boil under his skin, and it doesn’t takes long. His smell is all over the room, it seems.

His heartbeat stabilizes. Now he can start.

“Excitement,” Novak murmurs.

Dean lets it fly over his head. The Doc’s voice, his presence. The beeping of the machines. Everything.

Fisting his cock, he goes slowly at first. He lets it grow, let the butterflies in his belly multiply, and gather into his groin. Soon, he’s rocking up into his fist, and he knows it’s time to get to the real thing.

The thing he can only do when Sam’s not at home, sleeping at a friend’s house, maybe, or spending an evening at the local library to cram for an exam.

Just the thought of moving, of doing it in front of Novak is too much, it brings shame and heat to his face, spreading to the back of his neck and his torso, but he needs it. He needs something more tonight.

Maybe Novak’s right. Maybe his heat is coming up. He doesn’t know why he’s so out of self-control tonight.

Fuck that. He feels too good, now. He needs a proper release.

As soon as he gets over his shame, he flops around, head resting on a pillow – incidentally facing Novak – ass up in the air. There’s the small sound of the chair creaking, but Dean ignores it.

His right hand, the one initially on his dick, finds his hole. He’s wet, alright, leaking on the back of his thighs. He doesn’t need to move his fingers much around his hole before they’re coated in slick, and he goes back to his dick again.

With a sigh of relief, he fists himself again, a little faster this time.

“Plateau,” he grunts, because he’s been there for a couple of minutes now, but the Doc hasn’t said anything.

“Yes,” Novak breathes.

Dean opens one eye. He’s almost shocked into stopping, but the pleasure’s too good now. He can’t stop.

The Doc’s watching him, mouth half opened. For once, he lost all his air of indifference, and Dean would almost be glad if it didn’t feel as weird. When Novak notices Dean watching, he shifts in his seat. There’s no mistaking the bulge in his pants for anything other than what it is.

Dean closes his eyes.

Somehow it emboldens him. He’s not going to kid himself, he knows he’s red as a cherry, but now the shame recedes, almost vanishing at the sight of the Doc. If it’s not awkward only for Dean, then it’s almost not awkward at all.

He reaches behind himself with his other hand, running the pad of his finger against his hole. A moan builds in his throat at the contact, and he keeps it in check. For now.

The anticipation builds as he touches himself. The pleasure grows, swirling inside him, making his toes curl under its weight. He keeps his finger still, and pushes back on it. That way it can feel like someone’s behind him. Like he’s not alone.

Thing is, he’s so turned on he’s almost there.

Dean doesn’t give a shit about the Doc watching anymore. He’s about to come, and he wants to decide how, because just like this won’t cut it. He needs something inside him. Yeah. Yeah, he needs to come around something, and as soon as he’s sure that’s what he wants, he pushes two fingers inside himself.

Huffing against the pillow, he grunts. “Fuck. Me. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

And goes to town. His fist flies around his cock, fingers plunging furiously inside himself. He can’t really reach his prostate like this, but it’s not a problem. He’s alright like this, everything is good, he feels hot all over, brows drawing in a frown of pleasure.

He can’t think anymore. He doesn’t need to. All he can hear is the noises of flesh on flesh and the little ‘ah’s he’s letting out at regular intervals now.

Fuck, he’s so fucking close, pleasure pulling all around his belly, tightly, so tightly, he wishes he could live in this moment forever.

Until it snaps, that is, and an overwhelming orgasm floods his body with electric bliss. He stops breathing as he comes. He always does.

Only when the pleasure recedes, just a tiny bit, and his ass starts clenching around his fingers, his cock spilling into the sheets with little spasms, does he let out little grunts with each wave of it.

And then it’s too much. So he pulls his fingers away, lets go of his dick, and sprawls in the middle of the bed, breath short but tingling all over. He enjoys the afterglow the most. The weird little taste of orgasm in his mouth. The buzz under his skin.

The smell.

Gosh, the smell. It smells like it did when the Doc made him come from his nipples alone, the sweet scent of them both mingled together and wafting to Dean’s nose like a perfect scent from heaven.

Slowly, he opens his eyes.

The Doc’s mouth is closed. He looks like he’s about to shit himself.

“I’m all good now,” Dean manages a cocky smile.

He eyes the Doc up and down, implying without saying it that it might be the Doc’s turn to take care of his problem. But it’s like the Doc barely notices.

“Good,” Novak croaks, then clears his throat. “Great.”

He doesn’t move right away. Dean doesn’t either, but soon enough, things become embarrassingly real again.

It takes a little while for Dean to be clear headed, but soon they’re debriefing as if nothing weird happened, and Dean feels a little bit smugger after everything. They debrief Dean, too. Novak doesn’t name him. He just calls him Subject OM002.

So Dean doesn’t acknowledge it either. If they don’t talk about it, it’s just a bleep on their radar, right?


	5. November 1952

#  **November 1952**

“Say, Cassie,” Balthazar starts as soon as he walks inside Castiel’s office.

And Castiel knows this isn’t going to be good.

“Yes?” he asks, not even bothering to look up from his paperwork.

“You think you’re going to need me again? You know, for… the study.”

“Ah.” Castiel does look up at that.

Baltazar has already seated himself in the chair in front of Castiel’s desk, and he’s leaning back, hands folded in his lap. He’s pleased with himself, something twinkling in his eyes. Nothing good can come out of his mouth in this moment.

“I don’t know,” Castiel answers truthfully. “I need to establish a pattern of acts I want to study and data I want to compile. But I’m running a bit behind on the clinic’s paperwork, so I need to do this,” he pointedly looks at all the papers on his desk, “first.”

“Fair,” Balthazar comments.

He’s not moving. Castiel sighs, “What do you want?”

“What do you think?” Balthazar half-laughs. “I want a piece of that sweet little thing’s ass again. I’ve never had anyone so feisty before.”

Castiel eyes him above the rim of his glasses. “You got over your performance issues then?”

“Please,” Balthazar huffs, then blows a raspberry. “You know I was just anxious because it was the first time you were going to see my cock in all its glory. I’m willing to admit it was a bit… unnerving.”

“Don’t I know it…”

“But enough talk about me! How are you, Cassie, truly?”

Castiel freezes at that. There’s a point to Balthazar’s visit, then. He should have known, of course. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

“I don’t know how you would be,” Balthazar insists. The spark in his eyes is back, it seems, and it’s glinting more dangerously than before. “I mean… with that piece of candy,” he points to the door. He means _Dean_. “Walking around you all day. How do you not… explode?”

“I know you want me to fuck my secretary, but I don’t indulge the way you do. You know that.”

Balthazar coos in delight. “So you do want to indulge!”

“Absolutely not!”

“Ah! You’re blushing. Why are you blushing, pray tell, my dear friend!”

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Nah,” Balthazar waves his attempt at changing the subject away, “I’m waiting for an important call. Consultation, you know? I cleared my schedule for the day.”

“For a call?” Castiel raises an eyebrow, dubious. If Balthazar keeps taking advantage of his status as son of the Provost, he could very well be in real trouble soon.

“Don’t try and deflect. We’re talking about Dean.”

“You’re talking about Dean. I’m working,” Castiel tries to go back to his paperwork, but Balthazar hit a cord.

He can’t focus, now.

“Come on, Cassie, tell the truth. I’m your friend.” And now Balthazar is leaning forward, voice pitching lower so they won’t be heard through the door. “I’ve seen you look at him. I’ve seen him look at you. You never thought about taking advantage of… whatever this whole thing is,” he lightly taps a pile of papers. The first page says, in Castiel’s neat handwriting, ‘ _Human Sexual Response by Castiel J. Novak_ ’, “and tell Dean he has to put out? For science?”

There really isn’t a way for Castiel to hide his shame. It’s all over his face, as a wave of heat hits him.

“If you want to have Dean this way, you know I won’t object,” Castiel angrily whispers back. “But I’m not you, Balth. I don’t do those kinds of things.”

“He doesn’t want me,” Balthazar answers, leaning back again. “He made it very clear. You, on the other hand…”

“I’m working. Now please if you’re only here to bug me, please come back another time. I don’t have time for this.”

“I see,” Balthazar nods, like all of this is very reasonable. “My mistake. You don’t want Dean. It’s fine.” Castiel nods at that, and tries to go back to his paperwork. Balthazar isn’t moving. “How’s dear Amelia by the way? Is she pregnant, yet? Or were you just too busy with the, erm, study to dedicate a couple of hours fucking your wife?”

This has Castiel stop again. _How dare he_ , he thinks, before the reality of what Balthazar’s saying hits him in the face. Amelia and him, they haven’t talked in a while. He’s barely seeing her anymore. Balthazar’s right. This, this whole thing, the study, _Dean_. It’s all falling apart, isn’t it?

Not that he’d admit that to anyone, not even his friend.

“Get out,” he almost growls.

Balthazar doesn’t need to be told twice. The satisfied look on his face doesn’t bode well with Castiel, though.

“I’m always here for a chat, Cassie, you know that,” Balthazar says when he reaches the door.

And with that, he’s gone.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Dean!”

Dean sighs. He’s two hours past the time he should’ve gone home, and even though there’s no study session tonight, he’s still here, typing notes about Novak’s first discoveries.

He’s barely half-way through the masturbation sessions. It’s gonna be a couple of long nights.

And now Novak’s on his ass again.

“DEAN!”

“Coming,” Dean calls back.

Fuck. What has he done, now? He takes the time to rub his eyes, and run a hand through his hair. He’s so tired these days.

After that awful, awful time when he masturbated in front of Novak, the Doc is barely talking to him. Besides barking orders at him, he hasn’t said a single word. It’s like they’re back to their first month again, and Dean’s punching more hours than he’s actually comfortable with.

Sam is angry again. Sam is always angry these days, and it weighs on Dean in ways he can’t describe.

“I expect you to come when I call,” rings the Doc’s voice again.

Dean sighs. He pushes away from his desk, and enters Novak’s office. “Doc?”

“Close the door,” Novak says.

Again, he’s not looking up from his work.

His desk is clean, though. There’s only one pile of papers left on the Doc’s right, and a file opened in front of him. The voice recorder is out, too. _Huh_.

When Dean closes the door and comes closer, Novak finally looks up at him, indicating the seat in front of him.

“Please, sit.”

Dean does, not without a bit of hesitation.

“Did I do something?” he hazards.

His stomach tightens with anxiety. But Novak’s distracted.

“What? No. No, of course not,” he answers with a frown. “We never took the time to do your intake form. I have a bit of time right now, so if you don’t mind…” he trails off.

Dean eyes the file on the Doc’s desk. It’s open, with a single sheet of paper inside it. Even upside down he recognizes the intake forms they use for the study, and one of the little participant’s card next to it. He heart jumps in his throat as he reads on the card, in the Doc’s neat scrawl, _Dean Winchester, 28, Omega Male, subject number OM002_.

“Oh,” he just says. “Okay. I, hum…” Novak gives him a quizzical look at that, “I thought I was gonna do it myself.”

“I’m sorry to say it wouldn’t be fair to the other participants. I know it could become awkward because you know me, but,” he shrugs, “I need to make sure everything on here is true. You understand?”

Dean only nods.

“Right,” Cas nods as well. “Let’s begin.” And Dean settles in his seat. It’s going to be, huh, fun. Right.

The Doc turns the recording machine on, taking his pen in hand. “Subject OM002, intake form,” he says, for the recording. “Are you sexually active?”

Dean rolls his eyes at that. “Yes,” he lets out.

“When did you lose your virginity?”

God. Why does Cas have to be so serious all the time? It’s not like Dean’s about to read him the phone book. And yet.

“Uh, I was fifteen. I,” Dean shakes his head. He knows they need details. Fuck, he really didn’t think this through when he decided to whack off in their lab, did he? “Jim Harrison. He was on the lacrosse team, I was, huh, let’s say naïve. He said he loved me, so I thought, you know, that’s alright. I can do it with him.” He shrugs.

Novak swallows. “Where was that?”

“High school,” Dean answers. “Janitor’s broom closet. I know, I know, not very romantic. I should’ve seen it coming.”

Novak doesn’t comment, just writes it down. He pauses, then, licking his lips. “You dated him for long?”

“That’s not on the form.”

“Apologies,” Novak agrees. “But when test subjects lose their virginity that young, there’s usually a reason, and it could help—”

“I know, I know,” Dean sighs. He _does_ know. Doesn’t mean he’s too happy about saying it out loud. “Uh, no we didn’t date, per say. I thought he loved me, he just said that he didn’t want us to be open about it because his parents wanted him to save himself for marriage. It lasted… what? Two months. Then we moved.”

“We?”

“My dad, and my little brother. My dad had to move around a lot for work.”

“I see,” Novak whispers, jolting something down. “Alright. Are you orgasmic?”

Dean wants to say, _you know I am_ , but doesn’t. He can’t be sure who’s going to listen to these tapes in the future. “Yes.”

“Please describe the ways you manage to achieve orgasm.”

“Well,” Dean lets out. “Okay, hum…” this is awkward. It’s why he wanted to do the intake on his own, but obviously the Doc’s right. If the others had to go through with this, he has to as well. They can’t make a difference between him and the others if they want to be safe. “Well I can come through penis stimulation, from penetration, huh… I can also come untouched if someone…” _Christ_. Novak is looking right into his eyes, “if someone plays with my nipples. And, hum…. Jesus,” he runs a hand on his mouth.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Novak says, gently. But there’s some interest in his voice. “You know we won’t judge you.”

“I know, I know… it’s just… not something people do and most of the time, when I bring it up they…”

“Again. No judgment here. We’re simply studying physiological responses to sexual stimulation.”

“Okay. Hum, oral stimulation. On my… my cha—” he can’t say channel, but he can’t say ‘anus’ either, because Jesus fucking Christ that would be weird, “my ass.”

Novak raises an eyebrow and stops scribbling for a second. “You mean anulingus?”

“God.” Dean hides his face in his hands. “Yes. Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

And Novak hums, _hums_ , of all the things he could have answered, that’s what finishes to undo Dean.

The Doc’s very patient, though. He waits until Dean can let his hands down, waits until his cheeks aren’t burning as much. When Dean looks down on the intake form, he sees that the Doc has written – upside down, of course – ‘rimming’.

Huh. So at least he has the vocabulary down, huh?

“What are your favored positions to achieve orgasm?” The Doc goes on. “First when you’re on your own, and when you are with people.”

Alright. He can do this. They do it every day, and most people don’t look as mortified as he’s feeling now, so he needs to get a grip.

He clears his throat. “Alone, well…” He could say the Doc knows, but for the sake of the tape, he spells it out, “On all fours, with my head on a pillow and my ass in the air. I, huh, like to finger myself while I jer—I masturbate. My penis. And, hum… with someone, I like to… It’s kind of similar, so I’d say, same position, or, hum, lying on my belly, or, huh, on my back, with my knees to my chest. I also… I also like in that position when the person with me hold my arms down. Like, like I’m trapped.”

There’s no mistaking the way Novak closes his eyes, briefly, to swallow before writing it down.

“Next question,” he says. His voice pitches a bit higher this time. “How many times a month do you achieve orgasm?”

This one’s easy. “Not enough,” Dean laughs, but Novak’s serious gaze lands on him and he clears his throat again. “About three times? I don’t live alone, so I can’t really do it whenever I want.”

“I see…”

They keep going. After that the questions are a bit less awkward, since it mostly has to do with medical history. Dean’s more comfortable with that, anyway. When they’re done, thirty minutes later, Dean tries to stand, to leave – he has so many things to do before he can leave, still – but Novak stops him.

“I need to ask something of you,” he says, and licks his lips like he’s annoyed with himself. His eyes find Dean’s, though, and he’s determined. “I need you to do an intake form. For me.”

Dean’s left speechless for a second. “For you? You mean-”

“I don’t know,” Novak dismisses the thought like it’s nothing, “But we never know. And it’s only fair to you that you put me through it, the same way I just did. So please… let’s not make a big thing out of it. At least it’d be done.”

He takes another file from a drawer in his desk, hands it to Dean with a pen. He changes the tape in the recorder, making sure to label Dean’s first with ‘OM002’, and pushes the play and record buttons at the same time.

The recorder clicks, and the red light comes on.

Dean clears his throat. The card reads ‘ _Castiel James Novak, 35, Alpha Male, subject AM003_ ’. Hastily, he writes down ‘subject AM003’ on top of the intake form. It feels huge, somehow. It’s barely a sentence but it’s like his whole future life is staring him in the face.

“ _Uh. Subject AM003, intake form_.” He sighs, but braces himself. This is all of his weaknesses rolled up into one tricky package, it seems. He needs to be strong for this. “Are you sexually active?”

“Yes,” Novak answers, almost pleasantly.

“When did you lose your virginity?”

“I was nineteen. Her name was Dora. Or Dory, I can’t remember.. She was twice my age. A prostitute.”

Dean does a double take at that, “You lost your virginity to a prostitute?”

Novak shrugs, “My tutor at the time thought it would be a great birthday gift.”

“Was it?”

“I enjoyed it. She was smart. We had a good talk.”

Dean huffs, incredulous, “Good talk. Okay.” He writes it down, shaking his head.

“We said ‘no judgment’,” Novak intones.

And Dean sheepishly looks up at him. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at the situation, I promise. Okay. Hum… okay. Are you orgasmic?”

This one, Dean doesn’t know the answer to. After all, he’s never seen the Doc come, so it could go both ways. Maybe that’s why he wants to study sex. Maybe it’s because he has a problem.

“Yes.”

Or not.

“Alright,” Dean writes it down, dutifully, checking the little ‘yes’ box in front of the question. “So…” Jesus fuck, he’s going to ask his boss this question, he can’t believe it, “Please describe all the ways you manage to achieve orgasm.”

The Doc leans back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. “Penile stimulation is about it, I’m afraid.”

“It’s fine,” Dean finds himself saying, “I mean, that’s what it’s for, right? So that’s good.”

He scribbles down ‘penile stimulation’, and braces himself for the next question.

“What are your favorite positions to achieve orgasm? On your own and with a partner.” He adds a little, “Please,” because he’s suddenly self-conscious.

Novak hums, and thinks. God. _Oh God_. There’s something about the sound that makes Dean’s ass clench around nothing, and he mentally chastises himself. Now is definitely not the time!!

“On my own, I like to do it standing up. If there’s a mirror that’s even better,” _Holy fucking shit_ , Dean was so not ready for it. He tries to write it down, hoping it won’t be illegible later. “I don’t much care for doing it in other positions. Lying down just feels… boring.”

“Alright,” Dean licks his lips.

“And with others… let’s see.” He rubs his chin, takes off his glasses, and looks Dean straight in the eye. “I like to take them from behind and pound into them. I like it when we’re both lying on our sides, too, so I can stimulate them as well. But my favorite position is when I’m half-lying down, half-sitting, and they ride my lap. Whether they’re facing me or not, I don’t have a preference.”

Dean prays, actually prays, that his blockers won’t fail him right now, because he’s leaking, alright. He’s leaking so much he hopes it won’t leave his scent lying around forever on the office chair he’s sitting in.

“you’re not writing it down?” Novak asks with fake innocence.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, the asshole.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says. He jolts it down quickly.

Christ. Will his cheeks stop heating up already? He’s like an open book when it comes to shame. Oh, but he can picture it. Every single one of these positions he can see, clear as day in his mind, with him in place of a partner. Novak pounding his ass from behind, leaving bruises on his hips, while Dean drools into the cushions.

Fuck. _Fuck, stop it_!

Novak behind him. They’re lying on their side, and one of the Doc’s hand has slipped under Dean’s torso, trapping him against him, while furiously jerking Dean off with the other as his dick slides in and out of Dean’s hole. In and out in a violent rhythm, the sound of their flesh meeting violently every time Novak bottoms out.

Dean’s mind is blank. Blissfully blank, save for the reel playing the fantasy. He’s stopped writing.

Novak under him, holding Dean’s hands behind his back with a smirk while Dean does his best to ride his dick, Cas’s knot swelling, swelling until it’s uncomfortable and Dean has to throw his head back, unable to hold the Doc’s gaze—

“Dean.”

“Uh,” Dean huffs, blinking.

“Should we go on? We don’t have all night. Amelia’s waiting for me.”

“Alright,” Dean whispers. His voice won’t get out right. “How-How many times a month do you achieve orgasm?”

“I think it’s better if I tell you how many times a week I do.”

Dean almost chokes on his saliva, but nods nonetheless. “How many—okay. Yeah, sure. So how many times a week?”

“Seven. Sometimes eight.” 

Okay. It’s not hard to do the math here. Either the Doc masturbates every single night, or has sex with his wife – _Dean, his wife!_ – every single night, or he keeps his Sundays to himself and goes on a binge. First one is the most probable.

“You,” Dean blinks. “Every night?”

Novak shrugs again. “I have to. With my line of work.”

Okay, yeah, Dean gets it. But still. “Okay. Hm. So, above an average of three times a week, I have to ask…” this is all part of the form, but Dean’s suddenly glad for that question. Sue him, he’s curious. “Do you… huh, ejaculate? Every single time?”

Novak nods, “Yes, but the amount I produce isn’t much, I believe as a result of the frequency of my activities.”

Writing it down, all right. Dean tries not to picture himself on his knees, in front of Novak standing up, jerking his cock off fast and rough, coming with a grunt while Dean waits under him, tongue at the ready—

 _Focus_!

“Alright. Sooo… medical history.”

“I can do that by myself,” The Doc says, abruptly.

“But I thought—”

“I think we’re done, here. Thank you, Dean.”

He stands up, gathers the files and goes to hide them in his safe, in a corner of the room. Dean can’t move.

Did… did the Doc just asked him to do it to… what? Gather some fantasies about Dean? Rile Dean up? What?

He feels… betrayed. Used.

“You said we had to do it for each other so it would be fair.”

“I was thinking of the sexual history. So that we could experience the awkwardness our subjects feel. Thank you for your help.”

He says all that without looking up from his safe, or turning around. Dean is mighty pissed, all arousal gone.

His clammy underwear won’t let him forget, though, how much the Doc just played with him. “Fine. I’m going home.”

“I’d rather you finish typing my notes, first.”

“I’m going home,” Dean repeats.

He doesn’t linger a second more. And as every time the Doc does something like this to him, he swear he won’t let it happen again.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sam’s looking at him from across their little orange plastic table, and he’s stopped chewing, or even acknowledging his breakfast a while ago.

“Dean,” he finally cracks.

Because Dean wasn’t about to ask him what was up. He knows the kid. Sam has his own pace and Dean’s learned to respect that.

“Yep?”

“I want to know what you do.”

“What I do?” Dean asks, finishing his plate in one swift move of fork. “You mean when I’m at work?”

Sam nods, all serious. He’s crossing his arms across his chest, so that means he means business.

“Uh. I guess I type notes, I take the Doc’s appointments, call the patients, I do the filing and—”

“You know I don’t mean that.”

With a sigh, Dean lets go of his fork, “You know I can’t talk about the study.”

“Why not? It’s not like I’m gonna run into Doctor Novak or anything. I won’t tell my friends I promise!”

“Sammy, I said no.”

Sam counters with his signature puppy-eyes look.

Dean throws his hands in the air, “Why is this so important all of a sudden?”

Sam shrugs. Oh, but there’s something more to it, there’s something he’s not telling. “Because…” he hesitates, “I see you come home and you’re pissed. And at first I didn’t like that you spent so much time there but you seemed… happy. Now it’s not the same.”

He activates double power on the puppy eyes, and Dean’s helpless.

What harm could it do, anyway, to tell Sam? Kid’s smart. Way above his age, mentally, so Dean doesn’t mind talking to him about sex, because that’s important. He should know a lot about it before he’s old enough to leave this whole shitty town and shitty life behind.

And Dean wants to talk about it, besides.

It wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Alright,” he huffs. Sam’s cheeks color again, and he smiles, eager. “I… the study’s about Human Sexual Response,” he says in a wince, anticipating Sam’s reaction.

“Oh. Okay.”

“So we… huh, ask people. About it.”

Now Sam’s blinking, taken aback. “You talk to people about sex?”

“They talk about their sex life to us, yeah.”

Sam frowns, “What kind of viable data can you get from that?”

Dean smiles at the words. He’s so proud of his brother in this moment, he can’t even put it into words. “That’s just the basic info we gather from them. Then we… observe. Them.”

Sam frowns harder. It takes him a second, but when he does understand, his face turns beet red. “Oh!”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugs.

He’s not far from turning crimson himself, but he manages to hold the embarrassment down.

“So what,” Sam scoots closer to the table, “you watch them…”

“God, you’re gonna make me spell it out? We watch them masturbate. And have sex with other participants. I swear to God, Sammy, if you tell anyone about it…”

“I won’t,” Sam protest. “Please, I want to understand, that’s all! How do you… how do you compile anything, then?”

Dean shrugs. “We use machines. EEGs, EKGs, those sorts of things. We monitor people’s heartrate and since we’ve been on it a while, we realized that there’s a certain number of… physiological responses that are common to everyone. That’s how we’re able to determine which phase they’re in. And we can time those phases.”

Sam’s fascinated. Go figure, “Phases?”

“Uh, yeah. There’s like, four stages when it comes to, huh, arousal. Like, there’s, huh, the Excitement phase, the, huh, arousal, you know… Hum, Plateau, that’s when you get all fired up and it lasts a while, so that’s why the Doc chose this name. And then, ah, Orgasm. You know. Then Resolution.”

“Wow, okay.” Sam’s silent for a moment. “That’s awesome. I get why you stay there so late, then.”

“Okay, cool,” Dean pushes away from the table. “We’re done talkin’ ‘bout it?”

“Actually,” Sam utters, and now he’s making himself small, looking up at Dean with a silent plea in his eyes, “I asked because I wanted to make sure you were okay. For… you know. When I’m gone.”

“Gone?” Dean doesn’t understand. “Gone where?”

“To college.”

“Trust me, Sammy, I think I can manage while you’re away on the other side of town,” he huffs.

He gathers his plate, then Sam’s, and heads for the sink.

“I’ve been accepted to Stanford,” Comes Sam’s voice from behind him.

Dean almost drops the dishes in the sink, but he catches himself at the last moment. Those are their only plates, he’s not about to break them.

“Stanford?” he asks, turning around. “Isn’t that…?”

“In California, yeah,” Sam half-shrugs. “And before you say anything, yes, I really want to go. And money won’t be a problem. I get a scholarship if I go. So I’m all good.”

“And where would you live, huh?” Dean doesn’t mean to get angry. It’s just that it feels like a betrayal, too, and isn’t that swell? The only two people he has any respect for just turned on him, not even twenty-four hours apart. “You can’t go to school if you don’t have a place to live. And money to buy groceries, and pay your bills. I definitely can’t go with you right now, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m kind of in the middle of something!”

Sam’s answer is defensive, “Calm down, I never said you had to quit your job for me! I said I’ll be fine, okay? I’ll find a job. And I have enough money right now to go visit the campus on spring break, I’ll find a place then. I’m not helpless!”

“You can’t do that, Sammy, that’s not—”

“What?” Sam insists, angrily. “You can do whatever you want but I have to stay here in this dump because you like watching people fuck and getting paid for it?”

Dean grunts, rolling his eyes. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you in the first place. That’s not what it is and you know it. Just… I need to think about it, okay?”

“Fuck you, Dean,” Sam spits, “you don’t have to do anything. I’m the Alpha, here. You don’t get to make decisions for me.”

And in a flurry of oversized plaid, he’s gone.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

To say that the next couple of days are bad would be an understatement.

Dean’s head is not in it. He’s put up the flyer in the first dive he could find close to campus, but nobody called so far. There’s just so much sessions they can schedule between Charlie and Dorothy and Adler and Ash before it becomes redundant. Novak is cold most days, at best, moody at worst. When it happens, he usually drowns Dean in paperwork.

Things suck.

Sam’s not talking to Dean. Novak’s not talking to Dean. They haven’t had a session in a while, and even if they did, Dean doesn’t think he’d want to go. This all seems so pointless, now.

“DEAN!”

Fuck, what does he want? Dean stands away from his desk in a sigh, but he knows better than to make Novak wait by now. Especially since today is a moody day.

“I need you to schedule a session for tonight. The Provost is asking for results, and I need more data.”

As is his habit, he doesn’t look up from whatever it is that he’s doing.

“I would, Doc,” Dean answers, tiredly, “But Dorothy is out of town until the end of the week, and Doc Adler just got into the OR for a… a…” he can’t remember the name of the operation Adler’s secretary told him about. “A big thing,” he finishes. “Clarissa said he’d be up there until at least midnight, if things go well for him.”

Novak looks up at that. “But I need more data,” he huffs, as if Dean’s being difficult by telling him the truth.

“Yeah, well,” Dean shrugs, “Can’t poof another Alpha out of thin air, so you’ll have to wait.”

Novak drums his fingers on the table, seemingly thinking. Dean lets him, for a couple of seconds. When it’s clear the Doc doesn’t have any other name in mind, Dean moves to get out.

“No,” Novak says, stopping him. “Schedule us.”

Dean’s heart lurches in his throat. Slowly, he turns around. “I never said I would participate with anyone,” he starts carefully.

Novak’s gaze is cold when it lands on him. “Schedule us. Or leave. Your choice.”

God, he’s about to throw up. “You can’t make me.”

“Can’t I?” the Doc arches an eyebrow. “We’ve talked about this, Dean. The Study comes first. So either you schedule us, or you can find another job. I don’t have time for your, huh, how did you put it? Your _standards_.”

Dean can say nothing to that. In a daze, he goes back to his desk. He needs to think.

Because as disgusted as he feels with the Doc, right now, there’s an ache between his thighs, telling him he’s actually been waiting for this for a while. He can’t believe he’s about to do this, but he loves his job, and fuck it, he’s lonely and horny too.

It’s just for the study, he tells himself. For science. That’s all it is to Novak, so why wouldn’t it be the same for him?

With slow, careful movements, he takes the study’s scheduling files out from his desk drawer, takes out a new session’s sheet, and starts writing.

Couple session #32: OM002 and AM003  
First session.  
11.06.1952

Under it is a box, with ‘positions’ written on it. He doesn’t fill it in, since the Doc never said what they’d try.

He doesn’t want to write more, anyway. Novak can do it himself.

He hides the file in its drawer again, and picks up the phone out of habit. To call Amelia Novak, because that’s what he does when they schedule a session they didn’t plan. This time it’s difficult to push the numbers in.

The phone rings. Once. Twice. He’s acutely aware that he left the door between his desk and the Doc’s office open, so Novak will hear this conversation.

A third ring, and Amelia picks up. Dean’s stomach lurches.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Hi, Amelia, it’s Dean,” he says. His voice is shaking, and he closes his eyes, trying to regain some sort of composure.

“ _Oh, hi Dean! How are you? How’s Sam doing?_ ”

“Fine,” Dean laughs awkwardly. “We’re both fine.” Gosh, what is he doing? He likes her, he actually likes her. She’s sweet, and she’s smart, and he usually enjoys those phone calls. “I’m just calling to let you know, that…” _Your husband’s fucking me tonight, so he won’t be home until late_. _Sorry about it_. “We had to schedule a study session. Kind of an emergency, you know?”

“ _Tonight?_ ” she asks, obviously disappointed.

“Yeah. Tonight. I, huh… I’m sorry.”

He never says he’s sorry. Never, not even on the night of their Anniversary when Cas forgot all about it because it was more important to test the inverted cow-boy position than to celebrate his marriage.

She sighs, “ _It’s fine. I understand. Cassie told me the Provost was getting impatient._ ”

It doesn’t sound fine, and Dean’s heart breaks a little, hearing how bummed she is. “I hope you didn’t have anything special planned,” he says, and bites on his lower lip. That’s probably making things worse.

“ _Nah_ ,” she laughs. “ _Nah, I just… I just miss him. You know?_ ”

Dean nods. _Christ_ , yeah, he knows. Novak’s never home these days. “I know. But hopefully we’ll be done soon, alright? This is just… we’re making it up as we go, so it takes a bit of time, but once we get approval from the Board and everything…” he trails off.

“ _Thanks, Dean_ ,” she says. “ _I know what you mean. Thank you. For being so sweet…”_ she sighs again, and Dean can hear the smile in her voice, “ _For what it’s worth, I’m glad Cassie found you. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there. We need to get together sometimes. I want to meet you. And Sam!_ ”

Dean is not going to cry. Nope. “Yeah,” he lets out. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“ _Alright. I’ll ask Cassie about it, and we’ll do something soon_.”

“Okay.”

“ _Take care, Dean. Thanks for calling. And don’t let Cassie work you too hard!_ ”

 _If only you knew_ , Dean wants to say, but he huffs a little laugh instead. “Don’t worry about me. Have a good evening.”

“ _Good evening, Dean_.”

She hangs up. Dean stays sitting there, for what feels like hours. He’s numb. His mind replays the conversation until he’s dizzy with it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The door to the lab is locked. Dean’s wearing a robe, again, sitting on the bed, his back to the Doc, who’s wearing the same thing. Which is to say almost nothing, safe for the wires they just attached.

The Doc clears his throat. “So we need to catch up on the other couples if we want to complete the data. My refractory period is somewhere between twenty and thirty minutes, and it’s currently…” Dean feels him leave the bed. He’s looking for his watch. “Seven twenty. I’m estimating your refractory period to be about the same, but you don’t need it to keep going so I’d say we can try three positions before we have to call it a day.” He sits back, the bed dips. “We can debrief tomorrow evening, if it’s too late when we’re done. Does that seem correct to you?”

If Dean had a little fight left in him, he would have argued that now, of all times, Novak was asking him if he was okay with what they were doing.

But he doesn’t have anything left in him, besides a flutter of excitement and fear, so he just nods. “Sure.”

“Alright. Let’s proceed.”

When Dean finally looks at him, he’s taking his robe off. He’s really built like a tank, Dean wasn’t wrong. His cock is already half erect, and Dean would blush if he could feel anything.

“Missionary first, please,” Novak says.

Dean nods. Takes off his robe. Lies down on the bed. Novak settles between his legs, and Dean looks up at the ceiling. He’s going to puke.

“Don’t look so excited, I might take it as a compliment,” Novak deadpans.

Dean sighs. He manages to look him in the eye for this. “I’m sorry. You coerced me into this by threatening my job, it’s kind of difficult to get turned on right now.”

Novak’s heart monitor beeps faster at the words. He has the decency to look apologetic, at least.

“I really need the data,” he whispers.

Dean gives him a dubious look.

“Dean, I’m sorry but the Board sent a letter this morning saying if I didn’t have a detailed account of my findings on their desk by the end of the month I’d be refused access to this lab. And the equipment.”

Dean huffs. There’s still some life in him after all. “And you couldn’t tell me that? Just tell me? You wait until we’re naked to give me the heads-up about the study being shut down soon?”

“It won’t be shut down,” Novak frowns, like Dean’s offended him. “That’s why we’re doing this. We’re both saving our jobs.”

Shaking his head, Dean looks away with an unhappy laugh.

“Dean, please. I know I can be brunt sometimes…”

Dean huffs again at that. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“But you know me. You know how I feel about this. And I couldn’t…” he grunts, frustrated, sitting back on his heels. “I couldn’t find a nicer way of asking, alright? I’m not good at… socializing.”

Dean considers him. It seems the Doc is telling the truth, for once. He looks genuinely remorseful, but as much as Dean would like to think he can read the Doc very well by now, he’s also been proven wrong on that point a good number of times.

But Novak’s never been one to use vulnerability to get what he wants. His inner Alpha wouldn’t let him show weakness just for the sake of winning an argument. Sex isn’t important to him, that Dean can say he’s sure about.

Dammit!

Dean’s interest perks up again, because in the small amount of seconds it took Dean to actually think about this, his anger fucked off to God knows where, replace only by curiosity.

Fuck it.

“You need to stop treating me like I’m crap on the bottom of your shoe,” he sighs. 

“I know.”

“And you need to get to work because we don’t have all night. And I can’t just go at it like you knotheads do.”

For a moment, Novak looks clueless. Then he gets it. Looking down on Dean’s soft cock, he sighs. “I… how do you usually warm up?”

“What I did to Ash that first time with Adler usually works,” he says, playing it cool.

Novak hums. It goes straight to the pit of Dean’s stomach, as Cas puts his hands on Dean’s thighs and massages the skin for a few seconds.

God. This is awkward. Hot, but awkward.

“I didn’t know you were hiding all those muscles under your layers,” Dean says, off-handedly.

Small-talk isn’t the Doc’s thing, and neither is it Dean’s, but maybe it will make this whole thing go smoother.

The Doc shakes his head at that, but there’s a small smile pulling at his lips. “I like to stay in shape.”

His fingers graze the inside of Dean’s thighs, up to the place where thigh meet hip, and Dean sighs. Butterflies are waking up inside his groin. His dick stirs.

Things get hotter. The awkwardness is slowly fading into the background.

“When do you find the time? I can barely take a piss all day, you keep me so busy.”

“Is this your way of setting the mood?” Cas arches an eyebrow at him.

Dean laughs. “Sorry.”

“I get here early. I go running every day. It relaxes me.”

“Hm-hm.”

Now Cas is running his hands up Dean’s torso, like he’s mapping the skin. His thumb grazes Dean’s left nipple, and Dean’s breath hitches.

“Excitement?” the Doc asks.

Dean nods. “Yup. You?”

“Been there a while.”

He pushes his full blown erection against Dean’s thigh to make his point.

“Okay. Okay. I just need… just a bit more. To get, huh, wet,” Dean says.

Cas nods. He bends over. His mouth latches on Dean’s nipple, pinching it between his lips. He breathes against Dean’s skin.

“Okay, yeah,” Dean lets out. Slick finally slides between his cheeks, he’s getting hot, his heartrate is going up, and with Cas’s tongue trailing against his skin to reach the other nipple while avoiding the wires, his ass clenches around nothing. “Definitely excitement.”

Yup, now he’s in the mood. It would’ve been a turn off to talk science in the middle of it before Dean started this whole thing. But this is Cas’s domain. He’s self-assured in this, he knows what he’s doing. It’s hot. 

“You can go ahead,” he croaks.

“Sure?”

Cas’s eyes find his. Dean nods. “Yeah.”

The Doc lies down. He pushes on his side, his right hand making its way between Dean’s legs. Dean keeps his mouth firmly shut to avoid any whimpers coming out of his throat.

The Doc’s fingers are incredibly warm. Warm, and big, and perfect, and when his forefinger slightly dips inside Dean, Dean can’t help throwing his head back, groaning.

“Indeed,” Cas just breathes.

His hand disappears too quickly for Dean’s taste.

And then the tip of his cock is pushing at Dean’s entrance, and Dean’s head snaps back. They’re close. They’re so very close and Cas is pushing in.

 _Yes, fuck, slower, slower, just like that, oh God!_ Dean thinks, but he can’t let it out. Usually he would be so loud, but this is Doc Novak, his boss, and he can’t.

Instead, he lets out a small hiccup when Cas bottoms out, something inside him sparking lazy bolts of pleasure.

“Good?” Cas asks. Dean nods. This is his favorite part, right there. “You need to guide me so you can reach orgasm before I do,” he adds.

“I know, Doc. I’ve been here the whole time we’re conducted the study, you know,” Dean answers, looking him up through hooded eyelids. “Move!”

The Doc doesn’t need to be told twice, and he starts moving in earnest. Not too fast, at first, and it’s like he’s holding back, for fear he’ll break Dean.

“Harder,” Dean grunts.

Cas’s hips snap against Dean’s ass. Dean tries to raise his knees to his chest, but the Doc holds him down, “We said missionary first,” he pants.

“Alright,” Dean nods frantically. He almost forgot why they were here. “Okay. But you’ll need to… ah! Go harder. Way harder. Don’t be – fff—don’t be scared. You won’t hurt me.”

Cas shakes his head, “If I,” he inhales, “If I go any harder I won’t hold on for long.”

Fuck! “Can I touch myself?”

“No. We’re studying penetration.”

“Can you touch me?”

“Dean,” Castiel groans. His head drops on his chest.

He’s still moving, their skins slapping against each other obscenely. “Okay, shit, okay.” He tries to think, but it’s difficult with the Doc perfect cock filling him up hard and fast. The telltale ball of pleasure is gathering inside him, and his brain is slowly turning off. “Shit, plateau,” he says in a panic, because he forgot.

“Plateau,” Cas agrees, and keeps going.

“If I don’t come it counts, right?” Dean asks, suddenly.

The Doc’s rhythm falters, but he picks it up quickly. “I suppose so, yes.”

“Then go for it. Go ahead, I won’t-- missionary won’t do it for- fuck- for me.”

Again, it’s not like Cas needs any instruction. Once Dean gives him the go-ahead, there’s no holding back.

He plows into Dean like his life depends on it, and despite everything Dean might have said or even thought about himself, the orgasm draws tight inside him. He knows if Novak just goes a bit faster, a bit more to the left, surely he could—

“Orgasm,” Cas grunts before Dean can say anything.

Dean feels it down to his core, the Doc’s cock pulsing inside him as Cas keeps grunting into Dean’s neck. He keeps fucking, aborted little movements that slow down as Cas’s release comes to an end.

And then he falls on Dean, his whole weight collapsing with Dean’s chest.

Dean _humpfs_ ungraciously. “You’re heavy,” he lets out.

The Doc mumbles something that vaguely sounds like an apology inside Dean’s neck and rolls over. “Resolution.”

“Yeah, well. Speak for yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas says with his eyes closed. “Missionary isn’t ideal. Especially for Alphas.”

“I know, I’ve fucked people before,” Dean snorts. “Why do you think I was against us including it in the study in the first place? We can’t get shit from this position.”

The Doc’s eyes open in something akin to shock, and Dean thinks he’s going to be yelled at for swearing so blatantly, but what comes out of Cas’s mouth surprises him in turn. “You’ve… _fucked_ people?”

Dean’s self-conscious again. He pulls the sheets up to hide his erection. And the Doc said the word ‘ _fuck_ ’. “My dick is fully functional, you know. I figured I might as well use it from time to time.”

“It’s not like it’s going to fall off if you don’t,” Cas huffs.

Dean shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. This is nice. Who knew all he had to do to get the Doc to let go was to make him come? It should still be awkward, but for now, it isn’t. Mostly because Dean’s still horny, still unsatisfied.

He starts massaging his cock through the sheets, because he doesn’t want the erection to go away. He’s feeling too good right now. He can’t help it.

“Stop that,” Cas chastises him. “I’m not ready yet.”

“We forgot to time your refractory period.”

The Doc tsks at that like he just realized. He looks up, searching for something. His chronometer, probably. “Next time,” he sighs, head falling back on his pillow. “Stop touching yourself.”

“I need to keep to the excitement phase, at the very least,” Dean answers. It does feel like he’s justifying himself, but since it also happens to be true, he’s not feeling too bad about it, “Or else we’ll lose time trying to rile me up every time.”

“Sorry,” Cas says again.

“’S fine,” Dean answers. His eyes find the ceiling, tracing the tiles. “We’re testing positions, not orgasm triggers.”

“We should, though. Dorothy and Charlie have been through all the sessions. Balthazar and Ash aren’t far from it either. If we want to include our results in the final data, we need to do as much as we can.”

Dean eyes him. “What are you suggesting?”

“I could make you orgasm,” the Doc says like it’s no big deal. “I don’t need my cock for it.”

“I…” Dean starts, then stops himself. “You really want to include couple studies in the data? If there’s only three, I’m not sure the Board will see the point of it.”

The Doc is very calm when he answers. It’s on the tip of his tongue, so he’s thought about it. “I want to show them how it could be. You know what they say: twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.”

“Okay. Makes sense.”

“I know.”

Dean snorts. “I know you know.”

“Stop deflecting. I want us to complete the study, even if we have to schedule sessions every night.” He turns on his belly, and gives Dean his most serious look. “Please, say yes. I need this.”

And, right, Dean sees the passion in his eyes again. This is his life’s work, after all. Sometimes it could almost be funny how he forgets it involves sex. If it was anyone other than Dean, he wouldn’t say shit like this.

“You need to make me come?” Dean says, amused.

“Don’t make fun of me. You know what I mean.”

“Alright.” Dean looks up again, searching for strength somewhere. His hand is still on his cock, and he’s just had a full conversation with his boss while tugging on it, so he can definitely let Cas jerk him off too. Or whatever it is that Cas wants to do. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Cas starts, carefully, “Neither Dorothy nor Ash can come ‘untouched’.” He actually air-quotes the word. “I want to test it.”

“You mean you want to test nipple stimulation again?” Dean shrugs. Not what he really wants, but he’s here for work, not for pleasure. Sort of. “I mean we didn’t compile full data last time, so, sure.”

“I wasn’t talking about nipples, no.”

Dean’s eyebrow rise up into his hairline. “So… huh. Blowjob? We have data on that. And if it involves the penis then—”

“Not that either.”

Of course, Dean understands what he means. He’s not stupid. It’s just so out of the realm of everything he thought he’d do tonight that he needs a second to digest it. But once he has, he knows he can’t say no. It’s been an awful long time since anyone has eaten his ass, and if he’s honest with himself, he might have imagined once or twice what it would feel like to have the Doc’s mouth on his hole.

Fuck, oh fuck, how he wants it! Benny’s never been up for it, he tried once but didn’t like it. Dean even tried to reciprocate, but it’s never been Benny’s thing.

If the Doc’s up for it, who’s Dean to refuse?

“Okay,” Dean swallows, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling with the anticipation. “Yeah, okay.”

The smug look Cas gives him in return isn’t lost on Dean. He knows it’s one of Dean’s favorite thing. He knows what he’s doing.

“I would tell you to lie down on your belly, but I’m scared you’ll rub against the sheets, so…”

“So ass up in the air, I get it,” Dean answers.

His voice is shaking with excitement, and he blushes when he sees that the Doc noticed. He sees what it’s doing to Dean. Jesus Christ. How will they ever be able to work together again after this night?

“Hands under the pillow so you won’t be tempted to touch.”

“Okay.”

Dean complies, taking position. He lays his head down, of course.

“Spread your legs. I don’t want you rubbing on your thighs either.”

“I know what ‘coming untouched’ means, Doc,” Dean mumbles.

“And I see how close to plateau you already are. I can hear your heartbeat. You have no self-control.”

“Hey,” Dean protests, “It’s been a while. And I don’t whack off every night, unlike some people.”

The Doc doesn’t answer. Instead he pulls at Dean’s legs until Dean scoots lower, toes sticking out of the mattress. He turns his head, and sees Cas has settled on the floor, on his knees.

“I don’t want my neck to hurt,” the Doc just says when he sees Dean looking.

Nodding, Dean looks away. In fact, he closes his eyes, because his ass is exposed to his boss’s gaze, and really, he doesn’t need to continue on this trail of thought. Or else he’ll change his mind.

“Could we maybe get to it before I realize what we’re doing and bail on you?” he asks.

The Doc answers him by flattening his tongue on Dean’s hole, no warning. Dean shoots a silent, ‘fuck!’ and hides his face into the pillow.

“Tell me how to proceed, I’ve never done this before,” the Doc instructs.

Dean’s face in on fire, but for a whole different reason, now. Cas starts to lick at him, little kitten licks with the tip of his tongue. It tickles.

“Use your… fuck! Your whole tongue. Yeah, hum, a bit softer, softer…” The Doc obeys, and soon Dean can feel lips on his hole, sucking as Cas’s tongue go round and round and round. It feels so good. It’s been so fucking long! “Yeah, yeah, exactly like that. Oh, fuck!”

Biting on his lower lip to avoid spewing more profanities, Dean pushes back on the Doc’s tongue.

“Hm, you smell good,” Cas comments against his skin.

Dean pushes back again, trying to avoid fucking himself back on Cas’s tongue, but despite what he said, the Doc’s good at this.

“I’ve – ah! – I’ve been told that once or twice.”

“We should—”

“Don’t stop!”

“We should see if pheromone compatibility could decrease the refractory time period, with the right pairings—”

“Doc! Really?”

Dean opens an eye, twisting his neck so he can see the Doc’s sheepish face staring back at him. One of his hand is between his legs, and even if what he’s doing is hidden by the bed obscuring Dean’s view, Dean knows what it looks like when someone’s rubbing one off.

“Ready to go already?”

“Which is why it occurred to me it could be very well because our scents are compatible. I was just remarking it so you’d remind me to make a note.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

Saying nothing, the Doc holds his gaze. He doesn’t move.

“Fine,” Dean sighs. “I’ll make a mental note to remind you to make a note about it.”

“Thank you,” Cas answers, before diving back in.

The emotional whiplash is going to kill Dean. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? If Dean doesn’t work as well as the Doc wants, will he withhold sex? Or worst, yet, will he reward Dean with sex if Dean does as he says?

Dean has to say, the thought excites him.

He knows it’s not going to happen, that this is all work to the good Doc, and nothing more, but imagining how it would be if his livelihood depended on how well he performs in bed hits all sorts of buttons he didn’t know he had.

Just a few hours ago, it felt like he was going to his death. But now it doesn’t seem as bad. He kind of feels guilty and ashamed about changing his mind so quickly about the whole thing.

Having the Doc’s tongue up his ass definitely helped changed the way he looked at it.

“Christ,” he exhales, when the tongue breaches his rim, briefly.

The Doc lets out an inquiring noise. Dean hides his face in the pillow again. “Could you—ah! Could you do that again?”

Cas complies. Coming without touching his dick might usually take a while when he’s alone, but this time, Dean thinks it’s going to happen sooner than he can even predict, somehow.

The whole situation is so fucked up, for starters, that Dean’s weirdly worked up. Has been for a while. So all he needs to do is focus on sensations.

He closes his eyes.

The Doc’s getting sloppy. Saliva’s running down the back of Dean’s thighs, mingled with slick. Cas’s tongue pushes inside him as best as possible, bursts of white light flashing behind Dean’s eyes every time it slides inside him. Dean’s dick hangs heavy between his legs. It jostles with every single move.

Goosebumps start running on Dean’s whole body, and he pushes back, fucks himself on the Doc’s tongue.

Cas makes a noise again. Dean knows what the Doc’s asking. He wouldn’t be surprised if the fucker had his watch nearby to time him.

“Almost there,” He answers in a groans. “Just… oh!” Cas’s tongue hardens, flicking against his skin. Fuck, this feels so good, heat spreading from Dean’s ass, pooling in a rush to his groin. “Yep, yes, like that, if you could—ah! A bit faster!”

There’s no finesse to the way Cas eats Dean out. But this is just what Dean needs. His cock jumps, its base constricting. He feels his shaft swell, his balls now slapping obscenely against the Doc’s chin.

The heat in his lower belly seems to gather in a ball, his asshole tingling with the telltale sign of an orgasm coming. Dean focuses on it, his toes curling, muscles in his thighs tightening in his effort to stay still.

The monitors are going crazy, both of them. Dean wonders, briefly, if the Doc is into this as much as Dean is, before the orgasm sweeps all thoughts away.

“Oh, fuck!” he yelps, pushing back on the tongue and staying there. The Doc’s face is almost entirely smooched into his ass, but he doesn’t give a shit. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he mumbles, with each clenching of his inner muscles, each rope of ejaculate bursting out of him. “God. Fucking. Motherfuuu—”

Oh! It feels good. The Doc doesn’t stop, not like anyone else Dean’s done that with, people who were too eager to just be done already. It feels awesome. Awesome, like the orgasm isn’t stopping anytime soon, again and again even when Dean’s completely spent.

Until it recedes. Slowly.

Dean pulls away, falls flat on his belly into the puddle of come. Some of the wires are pulled taunt under him. One of them might have detached. He’s all tangled up into them but he couldn’t care less.

Cas surprises him by whining, a high pitched sound that resonate in the room, alongside the beeping of the machines.

When Dean turns around, the Doc’s bright red.

“Sorry,” he says after clearing his throat. “Like I said. We’re extremely compatible scent wise.” And, oh, the way he licks the slick off his lips should be banned it’s so sinful-looking. “I might have let my baser instinct take control without noticing.”

Dean sniffs the air. Oh yeah, smells like him, alright. It’s so potent he could almost blush at how aroused he smells. But there’s nothing coming from Cas. Not at this distance at least.

“Well I wouldn’t know what that feels like,” he sighs, rubbing his head on the pillow to find a comfortable position. He’s sleepy. “Your blockers work too well.”

Cas hums at that, the sound thoughtful to Dean’s ear. He’s too worn out to look at the Doc, though. He needs to gather a bit of strength for the rest of the evening. Surely resting his eyes for a little while won’t hurt.

The weight of Cas’s arms on the bed disappears. Dean opens an eye, only to find the Doc strutting naked, completely comfortable, toward the sink. He removed his wires and is in the process of opening the tap. Efficiently, he splashes himself with water, grabs the sanitizing soap, rubs his torso down to his navel, his armpits. His neck, right where his scent glands are.

He rinses his body, then towels it off like he’s not just shaking Dean’s whole view of him, and comes back to the bed.

God. When Dean thought he would be ruined if he saw Cas all wet, he wasn’t far off from the truth.

“Better?” Cas asks, sitting next to Dean.

The scent that hits him makes him growl, and it surprises even him.

He avoids the Doc’s eyes, “Guess that’s a yes.”

He’s never reacted this way to someone else’s scent before, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Good,” the Doc nods. He’s attaching his wires again. Two to his temples, two to his chest, two to the place where thighs meet hips. “Shall we go on?”

Dean sighs. “Sure. What’s next?”

Cas isn’t looking at him, but the way his voice pitches higher when he answers has Dean smirk. “Omega superior, front facing?”

“Me riding you, you mean?” Dean asks.

“Yes.”

He’s the one avoiding Dean’s eyes this time, but it doesn’t stop him from pushing Dean, until he can take his place. 

Dean complies, sitting up and stretching his arms in the air.

“I don’t get any time to enjoy Resolution, do I?”

“You don’t have a refractory period, so no,” Cas answers.

He’s already tugging on his shaft lazily.

Dean’s still wet, even if the orgasm has satiated him for the time being. With Cas’s scent wafting up his nose, though, he won’t need much to get him going again. He straddles the Doc’s hips, but doesn’t sit down yet.

His wires are all tangled on his chest. He takes the time to put them back the way they should be.

“We don’t have all night,” Cas tsks.

Dean huffs a small laugh. Truth is, he acts cocky, but he’s about to actively touch the Doc’s cock for the first time, and he would lie if he said he wasn’t anxious. For the first time in a long while, he’s glad he’s taking suppressant.

The Doc still wants to go at least two times, and they’ve already established by now that the more an Alpha fucks in one session, the more he’s likely to lose control and pop a knot.

Last thing Dean needs is to get impregnated, now of all times. Especially since Amelia wants to meet him, she said.

God, Amelia. He thinks about her, probably sitting alone in her big house – he imagines the Doc has a big house – waiting for her husband to stop working so hard and come back home.

“You’re distracted,” Cas says, frowning.

Dean dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “Still basking in the afterglow.”

“Now’s not the time.”

“I know. Sorry. Getting there.”

No other thing to do than get to work, then. Dean takes a firm grip on Cas’s dick, holding it to his hole. He can’t look Cas in the eyes for this, so he closes his own, and pushes down.

Cas growls. Something primal flutters inside Dean’s chest, and his eyes blink open on their own. Cas is fisting the sheets, head tilted back, breathing through his nose like he’s holding himself back.

Their combined scent is heady, dizzying.

Dean’s brain feels sluggish, and he has to focus real hard to be able to remember why he’s here. He starts moving.

His eyes are drawn to the Doc’s hand tightening in the sheets. Like he’s holding back. Again. As enthusiastically as Dean’s bouncing on Cas’s lap, thighs already burning with how hard he’s going, he feels like there’s something missing.

He doesn’t know why he associates sex with violence. It’s something he’s only realizing in this moment, now that it’s missing, but he needs bruises on his skin the next day for a fuck to feel good. Would it be too much to ask for it when the Doc’s clearly needing it as well?

“Hold on to me,” he growls.

His still soft cock slaps against the skin of his belly, but that don’t mean he’s not enjoying this. He likes being full. Used. Right now he’s the only one active though, it’s not going to cut it.

Cas’s eyes find his, and it’s like he doesn’t understand the request.

Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for this, because his muscles are contracting on their own, which means he’s already reaching plateau when they’ve just begun, and he won’t let it all go to waste just because Cas wants to stick to _science_.

Dean wants to come around the Doc’s cock, sue him. He doesn’t want a repeat of last time.

He grabs the Doc’s wrists, lift them from the sheets and slams them firmly against his hips. Cas hesitates, but only for a second. His hands unclench, fingers pushing into Dean’s skin. One of his hand slides to Dean’s ass.

“yeah,” Dean grunts, “’S more like it!”

Their heartrate are slowly rising up. Dean can feel his body respond to the arousal, idly noting that he’s having physiological responses left and right. He can’t just, for the life of him, remember what they are. His primal brain has taken over, now that Cas is finally pushing up, his hands holding on so hard to Dean they’re likely to leave fingerprint-shaped bruises.

It’s amazing. He feels so _alive_.

He doesn’t react in a panic when he feels Cas’s knot start to swell. It all seems perfectly reasonable to his confused mind, his inner Omega purring at the thought he’s making his Alpha lose control.

Cas snarls, upper lip pulling taunt against his teeth, canines shining in the white, dull light of the lab. He licks his lips, bucks his hips harder. One of his hand leaves Dean. He sits up, arm extended behind himself to stay upright. The new position allows him to bend his knees and plow harder into Dean.

Dean throws his head back. He moans, a filthy, animalistic noise that rings in his ears.

Cas keeps pushing, pushing, pushing against Dean as Dean writhes above him, hands flying up to Cas’s shoulders so they can move their hips as one. They’re in this together, in this moment, perfectly in sync.

Cas’s knot keeps swelling, big, impossibly bigger with each passing second. It’s like Dean’s about to pass out from how tight his channel feels now. It’s so good. Sparks fly behind his eyelids, but he won’t close his eyes, because Cas is holding his gaze. There’s something hungry in the way he looks at Dean.

His mouth opens, and Dean’s drawn to his teeth. He wants them to sink into his skin. He tries to remember why it’s a bad idea, but nothing comes. He wants to lean over.

Cas blinks, seems to pull back.

Dean whines.

And Cas comes, knot catching inside Dean.

“I’m sorry,” Cas pants through gritted teeth, “Sorry, I didn’t—” A gasp stops him when Dean’s orgasm hits, ass clenching around his knot, making him come another time.

“Oh fuck,” Dean just breathes as an answer. He doesn’t get right away why Cas is apologizing, “Fuck me, fuck!”

He keeps bouncing. God help him, he keeps bouncing until the little bursts of pleasure are further and further apart, disappearing in a trail of goosebumps rising up his arms.

Only then does he realize what happened. Looking down on himself, on the impressive mess of come splattering Cas’s belly, his soft dick laying on his thigh, and the monstrous knot he can feel inside him, he lets out a small, “Well, fuck.”

He lost control. That never happened before.

“Yes. Accurate way of describing… whatever just happened,” the Doc says.

Neither of them will look the other in the eye. They spend a couple of minutes in silence, before it becomes too awkward for Dean. He’s straddling his boss’s hips, Cas’s knot still holding him in place. They won’t be able to go anywhere for a long while.

“So. Scent compatibility, huh?” He shakes his head. “I’ll definitely make a note.”

Castiel hesitates for a moment, embarrassment clear on his face. “Yes,” he licks his lips. “It might account for a lot more than we first anticipated.”

Finally, his gaze finds Dean. He tilts his head on the side, “Are you comfortable? Here, let me,” he wriggles a bit, biting on his lower lip when it jostles Dean.

Dean _feels_ him come again inside him.

They don’t say anything. Cas just bends his knees for Dean to lie back on, and relaxes against the pillows.

“Thanks,” Dean whispers.

It takes a long, long while for the Doc’s knot to go down. By the end of it, they start debriefing the session in hushed voices, as if talking about what they just did out loud would make it real. It doesn’t feel real, in the lab.

Finally, when Dean can untangle himself from the Doc, it’s too late for them to do anything more. Cas has to go back to Amelia, after all, and Sam’s waiting for Dean.

They go their separate way.


	6. December 1952

#  **December 1952**

To say that things have changed between the Doc and Dean would be lying. Doc’s still as stuck up as ever, and even if Dean has been a bit apprehensive at first about working like nothing between them happened, he quickly got used to it.

Novak is the same asshole he’s always been, after all, it’s not hard to forget what Dean found attractive in him.

Sam decided to leave for California after high school, so Dean’s mind is otherwise occupied anyway. There’s nothing Dean can say to him that will make the kid change his mind, so Dean had to accept it, albeit begrudgingly. Besides, Sam has a chance at a bright future. Who’s Dean to refuse that for him?

So he’s trying to get used to the idea.

There’s not much time to think of anything else, anyway, since the Doc’s focused on writing his report for the Board. They haven’t done anything else together. Novak decided that the knotting incident was enough of a revolutionary concept that it wouldn’t need a repeat. It’s enough for the report, he said, so Dean went with it.

He’s been spending days typing and typing and typing, and his fingers and brain are both numb.

He can’t wait for it to be done.

But tonight, he has the evening off. Well, sort of.

Amelia finally managed to convince Cas to host a small party, so that she could meet Dean and Sam in person. Doc Adler is invited too, of course, and Novak’s mother will be there.

Anxious would be a good way to describe how Dean feels. But Sam is very excited.

“Do you think they’ll say something?” he asks, whispering as he bumps into Dean.

They’re standing in front of the Doc’s house, in their best clothes, and Sam still thinks he looks like a peasant who’s gonna get turned away as soon as he steps inside.

“You look fine, Sammy,” Dean sighs, “they won’t care what you’re wearing. As long as you stay polite. And you just, you know, don’t embarrass me in front of my boss.”

Sam just rolls his eyes, muttering a small, “Who do you think I am?”

With that, Dean rings the bell. The door opens on Doc Novak and a young woman, blond hair expertly drawn back in a complicated bun, pearl earrings shining dimly in the light of the foyer. Her blue dress looks mighty expensive, and a bit out of place for a casual dinner. But Dean figures she doesn’t go out much. Maybe she wanted to wear something nice, for once.

“Dean,” she exclaims, opening her arms.

Dean steps forward, trying to ignore the way his heart does a complicated anxious somersault inside his chest, and he eyes Cas for a second. The Doc looks like he’s about to faint, or possibly take a shit, so Dean looks away.

Hugging Amelia lightly, he smiles. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Yes, it’s good to meet you, too,” She beams as she pulls away, “finally!” She turns to Sam. “And you must be Sam!”

Sam smiles, shyly, and takes the hand she’s offering him, “Yes. Hello. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” Cas, always impatient, says.

“Of course,” Amelia smiles up at him.

It’s a well-practiced smile, reassuring in a way, as if she’s used to his moods. They’ve been married for five years, after all, she knows the guy better than anybody. Dean wonders what it’s like to actually live with the Doc.

He shakes the thought off, and follows them both inside, Sam on his tail. Doc Adler and a dignified-looking lady with gray peppered in her hair like nature itself tried to make her look as chic as possible are already there, sitting on the couch.

Dean suddenly feels very under-dressed. He kind of understands what Sam meant just a minute ago.

It’s gonna be a long night.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So, Dean,” Naomi says. Dean stops chewing and looks up at her.

Castiel’s mother has been pleasant, so far, but there’s an undertone of condescendence in every careful word that is allowed out of her mouth.

“I don’t understand what you do for my Cassie, exactly?”

Dean hears the unspoken, _why are you here tonight if you’re only a secretary_? He wonders if it’s just him, getting anxious all by himself, or if she’s really that arrogant that her bias don’t have to be voiced to be understood.

He hates her, already.

“I, huh,” he chuckles awkwardly, gives the Doc a look. Cas is holding his gaze, something angry in his eyes. A warning. Don’t talk about the study, then. Okay. He goes back to Naomi. “I’m his secretary. I take phone calls, type his notes—”

“Surely you must do something more to have lasted so long,” she interrupts, raising two elegant eyebrows in fake innocence.

“I’m—I’m not sure that I do, huh, or at least it’s not for me to say, really. I just do my job.”

“Mother,” the Doc finally sighs, “you’re making Dean uncomfortable.”

Naomi laughs. “I’m sorry, Cassie, but you won’t say anything about that study of yours, I have to try other sources!”

At that, Doc Adler gives Dean a look. Dean doesn’t know what to say, really. _Uncomfortable_ is too weak a word to describe how he feels. Sam seems to notice, too, because he discreetly pats Dean’s knee under the table.

“I told you this is not something I can discuss,” Novak answers. He’s angry, and Dean wonders how this evening is going to end. “So stop asking, Mother.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m asking Dean,” Naomi sniffs with annoyance. “I don’t understand why this all has to be so secretive.”

All eyes are on Dean again, including Novak’s, who is now glaring daggers at him. “Uh,” he lets out, “What Doctor Novak means is that we can’t talk about it just yet. Not until we present our early findings to the Board, at least, lest they make their own biased conclusions before we have a chance to tell them what the study’s really about.”

The muscles in the corner of Naomi’s mouth twitch. “We? I thought you were just the secretary? Or is Medical School more lenient than it was in my days?”

Dean’s face heats up at that. He looks down.

“I had to teach Dean some rudimentary medical knowledge,” Novak says. “He’s been very helpful. Please don’t undermine my guests, it’s very rude.”

“Oh no,” Naomi laughs, lightly, “I didn’t mean to. I’m just surprised. I thought you’d have found a partner for it at this point, Darling.”

“This is my life’s work. I don’t see why I’d share.”

Now it’s disdain Dean can read on Naomi’s face. “Your life’s work? Pornography is your life’s work, Cassie? Really…”

This shuts Novak up for a couple of second. “Who told you that?”

“You know I meet with my friends every Tuesday,” Naomi shrugs. “One of them also happens to be the Provost wife. You mother,” she says to Doc Adler.

Balthazar’s only answer is a tight smile. He doesn’t have time to say anything, because Cas is throwing his napkin on the table, more angry than ever before.

“You can tell your friends to keep their opinion to themselves,” he spits. “I’ve been working years on this. My Study could save marriages, it could help people with fertility problems achieve their goal of having a family someday. How dare you compare it to pornography? If you honestly thought that’s what I was doing, then you don’t know me at all, Mother.”

With that, he pushes off the table and disappears into the darkness of a hallway, the scent of his anger lingering well after he leaves.

Nobody says a thing for what feels like a long minute. At least it had the positive effect of shutting Naomi up.

“Who would like some coffee?” Amelia asks, finally breaking the silence.

Balthazar’s relief is clear. “I would, thank you, Dear.”

Naomi hums, eyes still fixed on where Novak disappeared. Sam just shakes his head, muttering something about being too young for caffeine in the evening. Dean nods, for lack of a better thing to do.

“Dean,” Amelia says, trying for a smile, “would you mind giving me a hand?”

“Sure.”

Dean follows her into the kitchen, eyeing the party from the opening into the wall between the two rooms. All he can do is watch her as she goes straight for the coffee pot.

“Could you grab some cups from up here?” she asks, pointing at a high cabinet above her head.

With a nod, he moves to do so. She doesn’t step away. Which put them side by side, back turned on the dining room where the others are waiting.

“I’m sorry about Naomi,” Amelia whispers.

“It’s fine,” Dean answers in the same tone, opening the cupboard. “I wasn’t expecting the Doc’s mother to be a prejudiced bitch, but I’m used to it, you know?”

Amelia side eyes him, cheeks a bit pink. “She’s not a… a—she’s not that bad, once you get to know her. I don’t know what’s gotten into her tonight.”

Now’s not the time to get into a debate about Alphas prejudices toward omegas, and how it’s worse in Dean’s situation because A) he’s working, which is never seen as a good thing for someone like him, and B) he’s working with Naomi’s son, so in her eyes, he’s probably out to steal him from under Amelia’s nose, which, if Dean’s honest, is uncomfortably closer to the truth than he would like. There’s also C) he’s a single Omega raising a teenager, an Alpha teenager at that, so he’s sure it doesn’t help.

He doesn’t say all of this out loud, of course. Instead, he reaches for the cups, bringing one down, “These ones?”

Amelia nods. “I’ve never seen Cassie so upset,” she murmurs.

“Well, that’s ‘cuz you’re not working with him,” Dean jokes.

“He’s… you’ve seen him like this before?”

“Almost every day,” Dean shrugs. “It’s hard for him. People think he’s a pervert, they don’t understand what we’re doing. They’re like Naomi. They don’t care to actually ask us what’s happening in the lab, they just hear it’s about sex and that’s all they need to form an opinion.”

Amelia stops what she’s doing at that, giving him a quizzical look. “What _is_ happening the lab, Dean?”

At first, he huffs a laugh. It doesn’t even occur to him that Cas could have kept her in the dark about everything. Why else would she be so gracious when Dean has to cancel the Doc’s plans with her?

But the look in her eyes tells him everything he needs to know. She had no idea before tonight what it was all about. The Doc didn’t tell her shit. And now Dean’s in a tight position. Can he tell her? If the Doc hasn’t said anything, there’s a good reason. But Dean can’t just shrug this off.

She looks so lost.

Damn it!

He clears his throat, “I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you…”

She nods, going back to making coffee, “Fine. I’ll ask Naomi, then.”

Dean can’t help but smile at that. Okay, she’s smart. “Novak’s gonna kill me if I tell you.”

“He likes you too much for that. He’ll probably…” she trails off, shrugging, “maybe he’ll just stop talking to you for a few days.”

Dean huffs. “Yeah. And drown me under tons of paperwork while he’s at it so I won’t see the light of day for a coupla’ weeks.”

She stares at him for a moment. “He does that?”

“Yep.”

“Huh. We really don’t know the same Cassie, do we?”

Dean shakes his head, bowing his head to hide his laughter.

“We need to get together more often,” Amelia concludes. “That way we can share our stories and maybe discover who the true Castiel Novak is.”

Laughing quietly again, Dean reaches for the cups, and presents them to her, “Sounds dangerous.”

As she pours the coffee, her smile softens. When she looks back up at him, something in her eyes makes Dean think she’s far from the empty-headed stay-at-home wife he first thought she was. “He’s worth it, though.”

Dean can do nothing but agree with a small nod. Now he understands why Novak married her. She’s something, alright. The bastard’s been lucky.

“I’m going to bring this to the rest of my guests,” Amelia finally says, placing the full cups carefully on a tray. “Can you go and get Cassie? Now that I know you’re used to him being upset, I know you can handle it.”

She winks at him.

“I’m… uh, I’m not sure I can—”

She turns him around, pushing him toward the corridor. “Bedroom’s the last door right in front of you. Thank you!”

And with that, she leaves, tray in hand, her perfect hostess’s smile back on her face.

Dean has a choice of either facing Novak or going back to face his mother. Yeah. He knows which one is best.

The walk to the master bedroom is tentative at best. He really doesn’t want to confront an upset Novak right now, but he has little choice. The door to the room is slightly ajar, so he knocks, but no one answers. He pushes it, and awkwardly shuffles inside.

The Doc’s not here either, but Dean can hear water running in the ensuing bathroom. He sighs. Great.

He knocks on the door, ear out for anything that would mean he should turn tail and run. But there’s nothing to hear. Not even the sound of the Doc moving.

“Huh. Doc? It’s Dean. Can I come in?”

“No,” comes the muffled reply.

That’s a shy ‘no’ if Dean’s ever heard one. Which either means ‘ _yes, come in, even though I don’t want you to acknowledge I want to see you_ ’, or ‘ _No and I’ll unleash my mighty doctor rage on you if you step in_ ’. Either way, Amelia’s counting on him, so it’s not like he has much of a choice, anyway.

He pushes the door open.

The Doc’s sitting on the close lid of the toilets, rubbing his eyes with one hand while the other one lays limp across his knees, holding precariously onto his glasses.

The faucet’s running. Dean turns it off.

“So, uh. Your mother,” Dean tries. The Doc doesn’t move. “She’s somethin’.”

This, strangely, is what prompts a huffed laugh out of Novak. “That’s one way of putting it.” With a sigh, he finally raises his head, looking at Dean with tired eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Amelia sent me. I’m the mine-clearing expert, apparently.”

Castiel snorts. “You’re here to diffuse me?”

“I’m the only one who knows how, according to her.” Dean tilts his head as he says it, a silent question on his face. Castiel doesn’t answer. “Now that your mother’s let the cat out o’ the bag, she wants to know what we’re doing,” he goes on. “I don’t know why you didn’t discuss it with her, but—”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I’m thinking it’s a bit of hers.”

“I—” Castiel starts, but stops himself.

He studies Dean, like he always do. Like he’s trying to see if this discussion is worth it. If he’s going to get something out of it, maybe. Or maybe he’s just wondering what to say.

“Come on, Doc,” Dean says, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. He purposefully does not look at the full-body size mirror hanging on the wall next to it. “Right now she only knows it’s about sex and that your mother thinks it’s pornography. Her imagination will only do much worse than the truth, whatever happens. We have to talk to her.”

Castiel gives him what could be considered a pouty face. It seems to say ‘ _I know you’re right, but I don’t like it_ ’. Dean smiles, smugly, and shrugs. “Just sayin’.”

It takes a little while for the Doc to answer. It seems like he tries to find an answer in his toiletries first, or in the showerhead. He looks at everything but at Dean.

“I… I don’t know what to say to her,” he admits, eyes finding his hands in his lap.

This show of vulnerability is so unexpected that Dean is struck dumb for a second, before he settles on, “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

““What if she doesn’t understand? What if she can’t, and she decides that—that—”

“Doc,” Dean leans over, and he hesitates to put his hand on Castiel’s, but the hesitation doesn’t last long, “she’s smart. And she knows you. She’ll understand.”

“That’s the problem. She thinks she knows me. This is…” Castiel sighs, shaking his head, “this is a part of me she never knew. I’m not sure I’m ready to show her.”

He doesn’t take his hand back from under Dean’s.

“I know you,” Dean smiles. “I’m still here.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow at him, “Only because you’re incredibly stubborn.”

“Yep. That’s me, a’right.” He finally pulls his hand away. “Come on. You know I won’t leave until you come out. You don’t need your fancy doctorate to know I’ll bug you until you cave.”

The Doc shakes his head. He doesn’t move.

With a sigh, Dean slips off the bathtub to land gently on his knees in front of Cas. “Do you need me to beg? I’m shameless, I’ll do it.”

Castiel’s only answer is to raise an eyebrow at him. Dean maintains eye contact. The truth is, he doesn’t know what else to say to convince the Doc to get out of here, so it’s the only thing he can do. He’s not sure how long he’s going to hold on for, though. The bathroom is small. Their combined smell is starting to get really noticeable, especially now that the Doc’s anger has abated.

It smells really good. Dean’s body is starting to react to it.

Gosh, he hopes the Doc is convinced, by now. He can’t hold on any longer.

“I’m coming,” Cas finally exhales.

With a grunt, he pushes on his feet, hands on his knees helping him, and stands. Which changes the whole dynamic of the discussion in a matter of a dizzying second.

Dean’s now looking up at Cas. He’s on his knees, face dangerously close to the Doc’s crotch, while the Doc towers over him. Dean almost sees the proverbial light bulb pop up above the Doc’s head when he realizes what position they’re in.

And then Dean makes the mistake of eyeing the mirror next to them.

What hits him next is the powerful smell of the Doc’s arousal, triggering Dean’s in response. Dean’s gaze comes back to the Doc. They stare at each other for a couple of seconds, frozen, in shock, maybe, or in fear?

Until the Doc swallows. “I think this is note-worthy,” he slowly says.

Dean nods. “I’ll—I’ll make a note, then.”

“You do that,” Castiel says, before shuffling out the bathroom.

Dean stays. Only for a minute. Only to compose himself, enough to face Castiel’s wife.


	7. January 1953

#  **PART II: Plateau**

#  **January 1953**

“We cannot sanction this,” Zachariah Adler says, an eyebrow raised as he peruses Castiel’s report on the study. “This is… I don’t have words for this.”

The other board members nod approvingly, and Castiel’s blood starts to boil. He’s waited more than three weeks after the deadline they set for the report, and this is what he gets after all that time.

“I believe I explained to you what the Study was about. I’ve never hidden anything from you. You knew from the start—”

“That what?” Zachariah finally looks up at him, a sneer on his face. “That you’d spend, what was it?” He looks down at the report, “Fifty percent of your research time on Omegas climaxing? And for what? You think the medical community is interested in knowing that Omegas have sex differently? You think this is useful? This isn’t what you promised. You said this would help your fertility research. I don’t see it. All I see is smut.”

“I didn’t—”

“You used hospital funding to research smut. Now you’ve had your fun, Doctor Novak. At our expense. I didn’t think you were naïve enough to believe we’d approve of this.”

Truth is, Castiel doesn’t know what he believed. It didn’t occur to him that presenting his first findings to the Board could go that badly. It wasn’t supposed to.

“I can—I can swear to you that my intentions were not to upset you. I only went where the research led me—”

“Right,” Adler snorts. “It led you to organizing your own private stag films? Please…”

“I never filmed—” he stops himself. That’s not the point. Zachariah is riling him up, he knows that, because Zachariah never approved of him. Even as Balthazar’s friend. Even as a medical student. Especially as a medical student. “I am very sorry that it seems like I deceived you. I can assure you, it’s not the case. I am…” he licks his lips, as if preparing them for the lie to come, “willing to discuss it with you. See where we can take it, to make it more, ah, palatable?”

“Castiel,” Doctor Michael Milton says, more gently than Zachariah, “it’s over. We understand that you thought you had something with this, but as it turns out, it’s a dead end. There’s nothing that we could take from this that would be beneficial to the public. I’m afraid we’ll have to shut down your study.”

Castiel’s heart stops beating, for what feels like a very long, very painful second. “Please,” he manages, when it starts pumping blood again, the feeling like hundreds of little knives piercing through his veins, “this is my life’s work, you can’t shut it down so soon! We’ve barely started—”

“If we’re done,” Zachariah interrupts, standing up, “I have a very busy day ahead of me. Good day, gentlemen.”

He steps out. It feels like Castiel’s life force is leaving with him. The other Board members starts to leave, too. None of them will look at Castiel. Only Milton remains, and the way he looks at him is even worse than if he had ignored him.

With a sigh, he stands as well, gathering his briefcase. He doesn’t say anything. He just gives Castiel an apologetic smile.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean is pacing the length of Castiel’s office, his face a mask of fury and disgust.

“Those assholes!” He spits. “It’s not like they can tell their dicks from their brains, anyway, so fuck them.” He turns to Castiel, an almost-pout on his lips, and Castiel has to work really hard not to think of the word ‘adorable’. “Right? Fuck them, Doc. I mean, we don’t need them. You’re a reputable doctor, you can find a job elsewhere. And then we can resume our work.”

 _Our_ work.

Castiel shakes his head, “ _My_ work is too controversial. At least according to Zachariah. He has connections all over the county, so I doubt I’ll find anyone who’d be willing to fund me. And if he teams up with my mother, well…”

“Fuck her!” Dean burst.

And then he freezes, realizing what he just said, and his ears turn pink. “Sorry, I—”

Castiel dismisses his embarrassment with a wave of his hand. “There’s nothing we can do. Officially, that is.”

Dean frowns at that. Castiel can almost see the wheels turning inside his head. For a long minute, he’s silent, before he flops down on the seat facing Castiel’s desk. Leaning forward, he rests his chin on his hand.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Something dangerous for my career. For your job security. Maybe something illegal.”

“Like the prostitutes?”

Castiel shrugs, “I don’t think the data would be viable but it could be discussed. We could use them to establish a basis of research. Steps. See what’s interesting, what’s not.”

“You did that, already,” Dean squints, “besides, the Johns wouldn’t be in the know, so from an ethical stand point, anything related to them couldn’t be used, and, also, you know, the girls might have trouble stirring them in the right direction more often than not.”

Exactly what Castiel was thinking. “Yes. And we can’t ask our other participants, because as soon as you remove the lab component…”

“This turns into some shady sex experiment, yeah.” Dean shakes his head as he realizes they’re stuck. “Then what?”

Castiel avoids his eyes, for a couple of seconds. This, all of this, he’s thought about already. He’s turned the situation over and over in every direction possible and nothing seemed right. Except one thing. One small thing, that could keep the study afloat while he finds an official solution.

“I… I hope I’m not mistaken when I say I think that you’ll agree we need to keep the study going. If we stop, then the data gets older, and older, and it becomes useless.”

“Right,” Dean says, straightening up.

“All we need is one couple, really. Just keep the research going, establish a basis, like I said, steps for the official part of the research. To keep the data alive.”

Ah. Dean’s starting to get it, if the suspicious frown he’s wearing is any indication. “So what you’re saying—”

“I’m sorry. But yes. We could keep going, you and me. We’re the only ones who understand the true nature of the work, so it’s only logical that we’d be the ones keeping it alive for the time being.”

And there’s the look Castiel dreads above all. Dean’s upset by the notion, of course, his principles battling inside him against his very clear, very apparent appreciation of the idea.

Of course, Castiel’s not stupid. He’s aware that Dean is attracted to him, Hell, he’s attracted to Dean almost as much. It’s a simple matter of pheromones, and smell compatibility that draws them to each other. Balancing that need with his scientific reasoning isn’t easy. He’s willing to at least admit that to himself.

But Dean still struggles with it. He hasn’t found his moral balance, yet.

“Where would we even…” Dean trails off.

His gaze is hesitant. He tries to look Castiel in the eye but barely manages.

“I know how this is going to sound,” Castiel sighs, “but the ideal solution would be a hotel room.”

“Christ…”

“It’s discreet, we wouldn’t be interrupted, and at least it’d be comfortable.”

“But we wouldn’t be able to bring any equipment in,” Dean argues.

Castiel concedes with a shrug, “We won’t have access to the equipment after today, anyway. We can still use a stop watch, and write down our findings. We can… ah, focus on the technicalities, instead of the data. At least until we find another solution.”

Dean considers, of course. He seems to run everything through, one last time, as if he could find a magical solution Castiel hasn’t thought about. As if he’s looking for a reason that would mean they wouldn’t be able to resume their participation in the Study. As if finding no other solution would give him permission.

It probably makes the guilt less prominent, Castiel figures. It works for Castiel, at least. It makes it a little less hard to come home to Amelia.

And now that Dean’s acquainted with Amelia, well… Castiel won’t blame him for being thorough in his search for absolution.

“You’ve thought about it a lot, huh?” Dean asks, finally.

“I did.”

Dean shakes his head. “Man,” he sighs. And Castiel knows better now than to take it personally. “I… yeah, okay. Say I agree. What will happen to me once you go back to being a regular obstetrician?”

“I’ll still need a secretary.”

“But I won’t get paid for the Study part of the work, anymore.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Castiel says. “And paying you for our sessions would amount to prostitution. I don’t think you’d be amenable to that, even if it wasn’t illegal.”

Dean snorts. “Right.” His shoulders sag, and he runs his hand on his mouth. “I just… I don’t know how I’m gonna pay my bills, Doc… without the extra revenues from the Study, how’m I gonna pay for Sam’s… everything?”

“Sam told you, told _us_ ,” Castiel gives him a look from above his glasses, “at length, might I add, that he could take care of himself. He’s a very bright young man, with a full ride to one of the most prestigious schools in the country. I think he can manage to pay his own bills.”

“Right,” Dean snaps. As always, when talking about Sam, his anger is quick to resurface, “and when he works, he finds time to study when, exactly? After work? Before work? When does he sleep? What kind of drugs does he take to survive on two hours or less a night?”

“Fine. Fine. I see your point.”

“And I don’t want to talk about Sam with you. Ever.”

“Yes, you’ve said. And I’ll continue to ignore you if I think the topic at hand demands that we talk about him.”

There’s nothing funnier than watching Dean trying to swallow a ‘fuck you’ that’s just on the tip of his tongue. His whole face seems to come alive with indignation. The muscles in his jaw tick. His adam’s apple bobs, and a small huffs comes out of his nose, releasing the tension inside his throat.

It’s always the same reaction, and it amuses Castiel to no end to try to guess when Dean’s going to give up and just spit it in his face.

Today’s not the day.

“It doesn’t look like I have a choice, anyway,” Dean finally says. He leans back, then. “Alright. We’ll do it. What’s on the agenda?”

Castiel smiles. “You know the ‘agenda’ better than I do.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know, maybe something came to you in your dreams, or whatever.”

“No. Nothing new so far. But it’s fine, we’ll have time to discuss it. We’re not going to jump into it right away. There are,” he scratches his chin, “things I need to take care of, first.”

With a curt nod, Dean closes his eyes. When he opens them again, there’s something calculating in the way he’s looking back at Castiel. And, God, Castiel wants him.

“You’re really not bothered by this?” Dean asks. “Angry? Not even a little?”

Castiel shrugs again. “I am. But I just don’t see this as the end of the line. I know there’s other things I can do, so I’m not too worried. For the time being.”

This seems to reassure Dean, somehow. He straightens up again, this time with more strength. “Alright. Alright. Let’s do this. We’ll show them.”

Castiel has no doubt that Dean means it. He tries to mean it just as much when he answers, “Yes. We’ll show them.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The Doc rounds the corner and enters the office like a furious hurricane, and Dean’s absolutely not ready for it.

Because Sam’s been even more pissy than usual ever since he learned of Dean’s lost of Study income, the guilt made it hard for Dean to sleep at night which, in turn, made it hard for Dean to know his head from his ass before he gets at least three coffees in him, and he barely reached the office before the Doc showed up, so he’s only half-way there in terms of caffeine intake.

Well, Novak’s pissy too, of course, but Dean had been hoping that their little discussion after the Board meeting meant that things were going to go as normal as is possible, minus the long hours. He was wrong.

Novak’s temper grows worse, and worse, and Dean’s anxiety is growing with it. Because the Doc hasn’t said anything about their participation since their last discussion. Also because Dean has less and less work to do. He’s been so used to working fast that it feels like he’s working too fast, now. He wonders often if he really has been doing things properly, because he can’t seem to keep busy enough that he won’t look like he’s just blowing things off.

And still, he gets home later, and later. As if the Doc is trying to compensate for the Study work they’re not doing anymore. Dean has nothing to do, but Novak won’t let him leave until _he_ leaves, because what if he needs Dean to type something? At ten in the evening, huh? What if?

So Dean stays at his desk, utterly bored out of his mind, and waits.

That’s how most days go. He’s not sure he wants to be here anymore, but what else could he do?

Anyway, this morning is a slow one, Dean’s done what he could for the time being, but he finds himself having nothing to do until the Doc gives him something. He has papers lying around on his desk to pretend to work when Novak passes him, so that’s what he does as the Doc ignores him and angrily steps into his own office.

He doesn’t close the door, though. Dean hears him rummaging through a desk drawer, and he wonders briefly if he’s gonna get some stuff and leave for surgery or something, and where will that leave Dean?

“DEAN!”

Apparently not.

With a tired sigh, Dean pushes away from his desk and joins the Doc, dragging his feet like a pissed off teenager.

“Doc?”

Novak is sitting at his desk, and pretending to read something, like he usually does when he’s angry, and he answers Dean without even looking up at him.

“The key on my desk. It’s for you. Take it.”

Dean hesitates, only briefly, and steps forward. There’s a key sitting on the desk, a small, elegant one, attached to a plastic card that says ‘306’. Dean picks it up, turns the plastic around in his hand. It reads ‘Elysium Hotel’ on the other side. His heart drops inside his chest.

“Is it…?”

“Yes.”

“So, huh, when—”

“I need to work on it again. As soon as possible. Tonight,” Novak answers, annoyed. “I’ll leave early, you may join me around eight at the Hotel bar. Now please,” he looks up, finally, “I have a triplets’s birth to prepare, I’m sure you have a lot to do, so if you don’t mind…”

He trails off, intent clear in the way he goes back to his paperwork. Something snaps in Dean.

“No, I don’t, _Doc_.” He spits the last word, which makes Novak look up curiously. “Ever since we abandoned the Study it’s like you don’t think I’m good enough to even type your notes, so I don’t have shit to do, anymore!”

Taken aback, the Doc’s face takes an odd shade of red. Dean usually interpret the expression he’s wearing now as one of righteous anger.

“Maybe you aren’t as good as you think you are, Dean. You’ve been neglecting your secretarial duties these last few months, and I’m willing to admit I let you, but—”

“Cut the crap,” Dean explodes. And Novak apparently didn’t expect an outburst, so he’s struck silent for a second, which allows Dean to continue. “You’re pissed at something so you’re taking it out on me. And when we’ll be—” He stops himself, drops his voice and bend over the desk, “when we’ll be naked and you’ll need me to perform and I can’t because I feel like a piece of dog shit you just stepped on, then you’ll apologize and tell me you _need this_.”

He straightens up again, throwing the key at Novak, anger making him dizzy for a moment. “Well, you know what? Fuck it. All of it. I’m not a piece of equipment.”

Novak’s about to answer when, very clearly, a thought crosses his mind, and he closes his mouth. Dean sees it because the Doc’s eyes widen, and he tilts his head on the side. A clear sign he’s thinking about something.

He gets up abruptly, taking three steps toward Dean, until they’re a few inches from having to go cross-eyed to be able to see each other. Dean wants to step back, but his pride won’t let him. He holds the Doc’s gaze.

And then Novak straight out sniffs him, going as far as to get his nose closer to Dean’s neck.

Dean jumps away, “What are you—”

“I see,” Novak nods to himself. “You’re about to go into Heat.”

It takes Dean a second to understand the implication, but when he does, blood rushes up to his head in a wave of anger. “It doesn’t have anything to do with—with—I can’t believe you’re bringing this up! You know it’s not the problem!”

“Of course it is,” Novak says, in a voice so calm it makes Dean’s blood boil, “this is exactly what happened last time you went into heat. And then you said you were hormonal and whatever you said at the time didn’t count.”

“I’m not…” Dean trails off, closing his eyes and taking a fortifying breath, “The only thing that a heat does to me is reducing my patience to zero,” he says through grounded teeth, “I can take your anger, and whatever you decide to throw at me on a good day, no problem. But today isn’t a good day, and your mood swings are worse than mine, Doc, anyone would snap after enduring them for as long as I did!”

Novak only looks at him, skeptical, if anything. With a sigh, he shakes his head, and goes back to his desk. “Since you don’t have anything else to do, you’re free to go for the day,” he says casually as he lowers himself in his chair. “I do hope you’ll be able to cool off before you come back to work.”

And, yeah, Dean’s pissed all right. But yelling and fuming apparently doesn’t help his case, so he doesn’t tell the Doc to go fuck himself like he wants to. Instead, he rolls his eyes, and take the out that is offered.

He just hopes Novak will have enough time to cool off by tomorrow morning.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

In an unseen ironic twist of events, it’s Castiel who doesn’t show the next day.

Dean arrives at precisely seven fifty, and waits. He waits until eight, then until eight five, then eight ten. By eight thirty, he knows something’s wrong.

Unnerved, he dials the Doc’s home number, the tone reverberating inside his stomach as the phone rings.

It’s Amelia who answers.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Hi, Amelia, it’s Dean.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she exclaims, and there’s something slightly guilty in her voice. “ _Shoot, I forgot to call you! I’m so sorry!_ ”

“What happened?”

She must sense the urgency in Dean’s voice, because she sounds lighter than ever when she says, “ _Nothing bad, don’t worry! It’s just… Cassie asked me to tell you and… ugh. He’s going to be angry if he knows you had to call me_.”

Dean wants to laugh, but he’s still concerned. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. “I won’t tell him if you tell me what’s going on. I was starting to worry, the Doc’s never late.”

“ _Like I said, nothing bad,_ ” Amelia says. “ _He’s… it’s_ that time of the year,” she whispers the last sentence.

Uh. Doc’s going into rut, then. Dean barks out a laugh, the accusation the Doc threw at him yesterday still ringing in his ear like sweet ironic music.

“ _Dean?_ ”

“Sorry,” he guffaws, “sorry. It’s just… he yelled at me yesterday and said I was being hormonal because I smelled like I was going into heat.” His brain catches up with his mouth a little too late, and he’s aware that it’s something that may not be taken well. After all, Novak has no reason to smell Dean, or to know what he smells like when going into heat.

He breaks into a sweat, but luckily, Amelia doesn’t take offense. Or maybe she does, but she doesn’t let it show.

“ _Well, sounds like him. He tells me the same thing when my time comes. Serves him well, now!_ ”

Dean relaxes when he hears the smile in her voice. “It does, yeah. Well, let me know when he starts to feel human again. I’ll try to manage things here as well as I can.”

“ _We both know you’ll do a great job, I’m not worried._ ”

“He might be.”

“ _Yeah, well, he’s not in a position to do anything about it_.”

And speaking of the devil, Dean hears Novak call Amelia from far away, his voice still ringing with authority. Must be early in the rut, but Amelia is sighing, as if it’s not the first time it happens today.

“ _Well, it was nice chatting with you, but I’m afraid I have to go_ ,” she says, clearly disappointed.

“Alright,” Dean laughs. “Good luck.”

“ _Thanks. See you, Dean_.”

“See ya.”

Dean hangs up, and the smug smile that comes as he does stays stuck on his face the whole day. Oh, how he can’t wait to see the Doc again and throw this whole thing in his face!

-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean does his best for a week, while he waits for the Doc to come back. He re-schedules all the Doc’s appointments, types all the notes that need typing, deals with Balthazar’s boredom.

He feels useful again.

On the second week, though, he knows things are taking a turn for the worse, because his lower belly starts cramping at random. His turn, then.

He doesn’t want to leave the Doc’s office empty, so he powers through. He powers through, until the eleventh day into the Doc’s absence. When Castiel appears on the threshold of the office, at noon, his smell hits Dean square in the face, the lingering traces of rut wafting up to Dean’s nose in delicious notes, and what little control he had on the beginning of his heat flies out of the window.

All he can do is stammer, “Uh, hi, hi, Doc, welcome back. I’m sorry, I need—yeah, sorry,” before he’s out the door and en route to his flat. 

He’s never driven so fast in his life.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Sam usually leaves the apartment for the week when Dean’s in heat. This time is no exception. And Dean’s regretting it every second that passes.

After three days of building need, Dean has tried everything.

“Fuuu—uck,” he whines as he comes again for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

Nothing is satisfying. Not his fingers, not his toys, not the shower head. Nothing. The heat in his belly should have abated by now, but it keeps building, and building, to the point of pain. Every orgasm feels like a firework that has been dozed with water as soon as it was about to explode, each one somehow less satisfying than the last.

Something’s really wrong, and he’s alone, and freaking out, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He needs help. He needs a doctor.

Fuck him, that’s just… bad. Now he has to drag himself from his bed to where the phone’s hanging, and he’s not sure he’s able to walk anymore. But what choice does he have?

With a grunt, he heaves himself up, and it’s a good thing he has no shame left, because it would have been almost impossible otherwise. When he tries to stand up, his knees refuse to hold him, so he opts for a slow crawl.

Naked, of course, covered in sweat, which means he drags with him every ounce of Sam’s hair and dust stuck inside the carpet as he goes. Fuck his life. He feels like he’s never going to get better again.

But the phone is within reach, now, he just has to push on his legs, hold on to the kitchen counter while he dials Castiel’s office number, and hang on to the receiver for dear life as he does. It’s not easy, but he manages. Once the phone’s ringing, he crumples on the floor again, phone to his ear.

He’s suddenly scared that Cas has hired someone else to replace Dean while he’s gone. He’s not sure he’s able to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences.

But his fears disappear when Castiel’s voice rings clear through the phone. “ _Doctor Novak’s speaking,_ ” he just says.

Dean wants to laugh. He wonders if he confused a lot of patients today by answering like this, but he’s suddenly distracted by a bout of sharp pain in his lower belly, and a whine leave his mouth.

“ _Dean?_ ”

How Cas recognized him with just a sound is beyond Dean, but he’s glad the Doc did. It gets a lot of explaining out of the way.

“Help me,” he just mumbles.

He can’t come up with anything else, because everything’s moving around him in a never-ending circling motion that makes him nauseous. 

“ _What happened?_ ”

“It hurts. Doc, I think I’m dyin’…” and there’s bile up his throat, now. Great. “God…”

“ _Where?_ ” Now the Doc’s voice has a panicked edge, which somehow reassures Dean. At least he’s taking it seriously. “ _Dean! Answer me, where does it hurt?_ ”

“’verywhere. I tried, Cas, I swear, but nothin’s workin’. You need to come ‘ave a look.”

“ _Okay, breathe_ ,” and it sounds like he’s talking to himself, so Dean huffs a laugh, “ _is it your heat?_ ”

Dean nods, “Yah.”

“ _How does your head feel right now? Any headaches, nausea?_ ”

“Feel like ‘m gonna hurl, yeah.” And now that Cas’s asking, his head is pounding a little. “Head hurts a bit.”

“ _You need to drink some water. Where’s Sam?_ ”

“At a friend’s,” Dean slurs. “He ne’er stays when… I’m. Yeah. He goes. Always. He says it’s disgustin’ to see me hump the furniture.”

“ _Have you eaten properly? When did Sam leave?_ ”

That’s too many questions at once for Dean’s poor, muddled brain. “Uh. What?”

“ _When did Sam leave?_ ” Castiel asks, and Dean hears the frustration in his voice.

It takes a few seconds for Dean to compose himself enough to remember what to answer. “Friday. I think.”

“ _Dean, it’s Monday_.”

“Okay…”

“ _Have you eaten since he left? Drank some water?_ ”

“Uh,” Dean scratches his head, idly. His cock bobbing proudly between his legs is getting distracting. He needs to touch himself. “I have to have… eaten something. I think. Sam left things, in the, the fridge. Chicken.”

His stomach growls at the word. Huh. But there’s something more urgent than hunger on his mind, right now. His balls ache, he needs release and his free hand finds his cock without a conscious thought.

“Fuck,” he breathes when he touches the skin.

“ _Dean,_ ” and Dean comes back to attention at the tone. “ _Get up. Get some water. Right now._ ”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Dean huffs, hand picking up speed.

“ _Technically, you’re right. I’m not your boss, right now,_ ” Castiel indulges him. “ _But you called me as a medical professional, so I’m effectively your doctor. At least for today. Please, get some water_.”

Dean snorts, “You said ‘Please’.”

“ _I did. Take it in, enjoy it, it won’t happen often_.”

“You— You’re an asshole.”

“ _Yes, that’s part of my charm. Are you getting water?_ ”

“Can’t.”

Fuck, yes, this is it, right there, this is what he needs. His hand slides easily on his cock, helped by the previous sessions and the sweat covering his body. Dean knows he can come again, he knows, but somehow his body is fighting against him.

He lets out a growl.

“ _Why? Dean, talk to me_.”

“Busy.”

There’s a second of silence. “ _Are you touching yourself right now?_ ”

Dean can’t help but huff a tired laugh, “Wha’ d’you think I’ve been doing for three days?”

“ _Well. You could have waited until we were done here_.”

“I can’t,” Dean spits, frustrated. “It hurts. And nothin’ works.”

“ _Okay,_ ” Cas says. He repeats himself once, twice. Dean knows it means he’s really worried. Thank God! “ _Describe to me, what you’ve been doing, and what happened and did not happen. In detail. Don’t be shy, I’m a doctor_.”

“Fuck…” Dean whines, not out of pleasure, but of exhaustion at the thought of having to recount everything. “I… don’t know. It started normal. And I did everything. Toys, they’re nice, I put good money into them…”

“ _Alright. It didn’t relieve you, is that what you’re saying?_ ”

“No. It’s gotten worse. It hurts, now. When I’m not touching it hurts. Please, you have to help me…”

“ _Have you…_ ” the Doc sighs. “ _Have you had any… serious relationships, these days? Anyone you could have, ah, bonded with?_ ”

Dean laughs, weakly. “No. Don’t have time. You work me too hard.”

“ _Okay. Someone you let knot you, then? Or you spent any particular amount of time with, in close contact?_ ”

It’s weird, what the Doc’s asking. It’s weird because the answer’s obvious. “You. Only you. Haven’t had a knot in me since… since my first time.”

Quietly, Cas swears under his breath. 

“What?” Dean asks, suddenly more awake than ever before. He’s still touching himself, but only lightly. Just to take the edge off.

“ _I think… I think I know what’s wrong with you_.”

Dean could cry from how relieved he feels. “What is it? What can I do?”

“ _By yourself? Nothing_.” Cas blows out a long breath. “ _We… I think we scent bonded_.”

Confusion is too light a word for what Dean’s feeling. “I don’t—what does it mean? What do you mean, bonded? You never bit me.”

“ _No. But sometimes, ah… it’s complicated. Again, we’d need to study scent compatibility to really understand the depth of—_ ”

“Doc. Please.”

“ _Don’t worry about it. Keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll be with you as soon as I can._ ”

“With me?”

But the only answer Dean gets is the tone in the receiver telling him the Doc’s hung up. He doesn’t know what that means, doesn’t know what will happen next, but knowing that Cas is on his case does a lot to soothe him.

Cas will know what to do. So Dean lies down completely on the cool tile, and keeps jerking himself off, hoping the pain will disappear soon. It has to. He’d go crazy otherwise.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Violent knocking on the door of the apartment wakes Dean up. He looks around, disoriented, the pain in his belly making itself known again, slowly.

It creeps up.

He’s going to vomit.

“Dean!!”

Knocking again. Confused, Dean wonders who is trying to break through his door, and why they sound like Novak.

“It’s open,” he calls out, weakly.

It usually is. The knob turns, but the door stays firmly shut.

“Not it’s not,” the voice says on the other side.

Huffing, Dean pushes himself up on his knees, and starts crawling again. “Comin’.”

Time is weird, today. He doesn’t know how he gets to the door, and how much time it takes him, but one second he’s in the kitchen, the next he’s staring up at the Doc.

“Uh. Why—you’re here. Why?”

“You called me. Don’t you remember?” Cas asks. He’s carrying a duffel bag.

With a worried frown, he pushes a hand against Dean’s brow. Dean tries to slap it away, to no avail.

“You’re not feverish, that’s good.”

Stepping inside, he closes the door behind him. Dean’s glad he did, because he suddenly remembers he’s not wearing any clothes. “I’m naked. Sorry.”

“I—it’s fine,” Castiel says, going further into the apartment.

There’s nowhere too far to go, anyway. The kitchen’s just there, and Cas starts rummaging through the cupboards. He takes out a glass, fills it in the sink, and brings it to Dean. The bag disappeared.

“Drink,” he orders.

Dean’s too tired to protest. Besides, his cock and his hole ache, and he needs to touch himself again. Somehow, he thinks, if he does what Cas tells him, the Doc won’t stay too long and he’ll be able to jerk off in peace.

The water feels amazing. He didn’t realize he was that thirsty until the cool water hit his tongue.

“Thanks,” he breathes when he’s done.

“Is anybody coming home anytime soon?”

“Uh. No. Sammy usually waits until I call ‘im.”

“Good. Come on.”

Cas puts the glass down right where Dean’s sitting, on the floor, and hauls him up by the armpits.

“Can’t walk,” Dean protests.

“Hold on to me.”

In a matter of seconds, Dean’s on his bed again.

“What--?”

“I’m going to use your shower,” Cas says, and the bag is in his hand again. “Rest. I’ll be back soon.”

And he doesn’t leave, or so Dean doesn’t think. But somehow, when he’s standing over Dean again, his hair is wet, and he’s lost his bowtie, his vest, and his glasses. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

The smell of him hits Dean like a freight train. Dean whines again, but this time it’s like the sound is ripping itself out of his throat.

Without even consciously ordering his body to, Dean’s hands shoot up to pull the Doc on him. But Castiel is resisting.

“No, Dean. Listen to me.”

“Please…”

“You can only smell me. No touching, do you understand? Just this once, you’ll touch yourself while smelling me. And I’ll give you some pills. It should correct your hormonal imbalance.”

The words fly over Dean’s head. “Need you. Please, please…” he huffs with the effort of sitting up. He needs to present his ass correctly, so that Cas won’t have a choice.

Fuck! He hurts so much. “Please…”

“This is worse than I feared,” Castiel mumbles. He pushes Dean on his back again, takes on his widest alpha stance, and grabs Dean by the hair so he’ll have to look him in the eye. “Dean. I said no!”

His smells turns sour, and Dean whines again, but this time he holds still.

“You will only take what I give you,” Castiel goes on. His jaw hardens, the blue of his eyes almost hypnotizing to Dean. “Understood?”

There’s no up, no down, no outside world anymore. Dean’s sole focus is Cas. There’s something, in the back of his mind, telling him he should be indignant, but his heat won’t let his brain catch up with what’s happening. His body knows something great is about to take place, so he just nods.

Of course, he isn’t as far gone as to not remember who Cas is, and why what they’re doing now is very dangerous. But somehow, the part of his mind hosting his conscience is like gone.

“You…” he tries, then licks his lips. His throat’s so dry. “You gonn’ help me?”

“I’ll try.”

“It hurts.”

“I know. Scout up.”

Well, Dean’s in no condition to move. He tries, of course, to properly lay down, head on the pillow and everything, but his whole body screams at him at the smallest move. With a tired sigh, Castiel pushes him up.

He’s closer, now, his smell slowly wrapping around Dean like a warm blanket. Dean feels better already. His head feels less heavy, his thoughts less thick. It doesn’t prevent his hands from doing whatever they want though, he idly realizes when his fingers wrap around his cock without him prompting them.

“Sorry, but I ‘ave to…” he trails off.

“Go ahead. I’ll just stay here,” Cas answers as Dean closes his eyes.

He can feel Cas settling above him, but they’re not touching. Cas is just staying right where Dean can scent him. Clever.

It’s almost like Cas is touching him. If Dean’s arm wasn’t as tired, biceps muscles screaming at him to stop moving it hurts so bad, it would be. But he’s been jerking off for so long, it’s like his body refuses to comply anymore.

It needs, but it can’t do anything about it.

“I can’t…” he breathes, hand slowing down. “Please…”

Switching hand as he speaks, he tries to pick up speed. To ignite the little sparks of pleasure-pain in his lower belly, to just come already.

“No. I’m not touching you. You only need my scent.”

Dean’s eyes pop open at that, tearful, “I’m so tired…”

But Castiel doesn’t relent. The order in his voice, and in his scent, is clear when he says, “You will come on your own. If you make me touch you, you’ll regret it.”

One of his eyebrow is up in that commanding way of his. Of course, Dean has developed an almost Pavlovian response to this look. He takes it as the challenge it’s intended to be.

With a moan, he pushes on against the pain in his arm. It’s less strong, he realizes, slowly disappearing, leaving only pleasure zig-zagging through his body again, finally. It has the adverse effect of bringing up his reasonable mind again. It occurs to him that if the Doc is indulging him like this, especially considering he thinks they’re scent-bonded, it might not make their situation any better.

But Dean can’t bring himself to care. It feels too good, the Doc smells great, and he hasn’t been that clear in days.

Nonetheless, he wants to be touched. The always-present want that presses him during his heats is usually manageable, mostly because he’d be alone on a regular heat day. This time, Castiel is too great a temptation for Dean to be able to resist it.

He reaches out, intent on grabbing the Doc’s arm and bringing it to his aching cock, but Cas is too fast. He aborts the movement and pins Dean’s arm above his head, growling, “I said no touching!”

That’s all it takes for Dean to come.

“Oh, God,” he moans, “Oh, shit, fuck!”

His muscles are killing him, but he speeds up anything, milking as much pleasure as he can out of this one, because, finally, fucking finally, the orgasm sweeps through him like it ought to do, momentarily frying his brain. All he can do is pant and moan and let it wash over him.

It feels so good. He thought it would never happen again.

“Thank God,” he breathes when he’s done, whole body collapsing into the mattress.

Castiel is still here, still silent. His smell, now all over Dean’s room, seem to be soothing Dean in a way that makes him sleepy. As if the last three days were just a nightmare.

“Sleep,” Castiel says. “You need the rest.”

Dean tries to protest, but his eyes won’t stay open. “I—No, you can’t—” he huffs.

What the fuck is he trying to say, anyway?

“Sleep,” Castiel insists.

He moves away. Dean grabs him before he can leave the bed, “Please…”

He can’t say it, can’t utter the words ‘don’t leave me,’ but Castiel seems to understand. The bed dips as the Doc lies down next to Dean. He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t move either.

“Thanks,” Dean breathes. “Sorry you had to…” he sighs, try to pull at the sheets to cover himself, “see me like this.”

Cas saves him from his fumbling and tucks him in properly. “I’ve seen you naked before.”

“S’not what I mean.”

“I know what you mean, Dean. It’s fine. You wouldn’t have been in that position in the first place if it wasn’t for our participation in the Study, so…”

He stops, and, curious, Dean manages to open his eyes to give him a quizzical look. When Castiel looks back at him, he’s frowning. “It’s my fault you were so distressed.”

Dean takes that statement in. Was it the Doc’s fault, really? Lying there, naked, exhausted, thinking back on their involvement in the Study doesn’t seem as dangerous as it once was. Castiel is not threatening here, in Dean’s bed, hair wet and smelling of heaven. Without his glasses and his bowtie, he loses some of his authority. As if Cas uses them as an armor. 

Now, he’s just Castiel. If Dean’s thinks about what they’ve done in the lab, he can’t blame it all on him. Dean’s the one who suggested Cas try to wash his blockers away. If anything, they’re both a part of the problem.

“Nah,” he just says, because he knows he wouldn’t be coherent enough in his state to convey all of that. “It happens.”

“Does it?” Castiel insists.

Dean can see the worry written all over his face. He shrugs. “I guess we should make a note of it. Study the cause. See if it could’ve been avoided. Would that make you feel better?”

And now Castiel squints at him, somewhat affronted. “I don’t need reassurance.”

“Sure.” Dean closes his eyes again. “Well I think that’d be an interesting thing to study, anyway.”

Castiel only hums at that. Dean recognizes the tone. He’s thinking about it.

There’s nothing left to say, then, and silence falls on them. Dean doesn’t know what time it is, but he can hear traffic outside the bedroom window. He lets the sound lull him to sleep.


	8. March 1953

#  **March 1953**

It’s a theme with them that they don’t talk about what they do when one or both of them finds themselves naked.

Dean is a bit unsettled this time, because the Doc’s been with him for the entirety of his heat. He left in the evening, and came back every morning, and was just there, so Dean could smell him. His scent was a bitch to make disappear after that.

Sam smelled it when he came back. Of course he did. He didn’t ask questions though, even if he recognized it was Castiel’s. He just stopped talking to Dean altogether.

Castiel, on the other hand, has become more gracious. Now he asks Dean for things nicely, he gives him notes to type, and has even been asking his opinion on a few things, which never fails to make Dean uncomfortable.

So they don’t talk about what happened, yes, but at least the Doc’s nicer. More human, humane. Whatever.

It is very strange. It’s almost ominous, like the calm before the storm.

Of course, Dean’s not even going to try and talk to the Doc about it. Things are swell right now, so why poke the bear, huh?

The only thing he’s willing to talk about is the continuation of the Study. Not the sex part between them, of course. He actually really enjoys working on it, and it’s been months now. The Doc hasn’t shared his plans with Dean, so Dean is going to take advantage of his good mood to learn a bit more about them.

Which is why he’s hovering behind the Doc’s door at eight in the evening when, for once, he would have been free to go half an hour before that. But they have to talk about what to do next, eventually.

And he needs to sack up and knock on that friggin’ door.

Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t have the time to. He’s waited too long, and the door opens on Novak looking at him with a mixture of surprise and panic on his face.

“Jesus, Dean,” Novak lets out, taking a step back, “you scared me!”

“Uh, sorry. I was just about to come in.”

With a sigh, Novak sidesteps him. “Well, is it urgent? Amelia’s waiting for me.”

He starts walking away, so Dean follows. “Kinda. Do you have a minute?”

“If you can talk and walk at the same time, you’re welcome to walk me to my car.”

Of course he’s not waiting for Dean as he speaks, so Dean runs after him, trying as well as he can to keep up with the Doc’s fast pace.

“I was hoping we could actually sit down and have a proper talk about this…”

“Then we can chat tomorrow morning.”

“Fine,” Dean concedes.

Truth is, he’s getting bored. Coming to work is starting to become a chore, and the last thing he wants to do is having to go job hunting again. The Study was interesting. It’s almost like nothing will ever be able to top it in terms of interesting content. Dean knows himself. He’s an impatient, impulsive guy.

He needs to know if the Doc has something planned.

“But I can at least tell you what I wanted to know so you can think about it. Maybe?”

Now he’s almost running after Novak. And, fuck! He needs to work out a bit more, he’s almost out of breath. Thank God they’re reaching the elevator.

The Doc stops, and faces him. “I’m listening.”

“It’s about the study,” Dean exhales as he tries to catch his breath. “Do you have anything worked out? Some sort of a plan? When are we starting on it again?”

Novak tsks as the doors to the elevator ping open. He steps inside. “I told you I had things to work out first.”

“You did.” Dean follows him. “Almost two months ago.”

“And if there was anything that you needed to know, I would have told you.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean tries, swallowing his automatic anger at the remark, “at least think about it, alright? All I ask is to have a… a sort of schedule, a date, something to look forward to.”

Novak raises an eyebrow at that. The elevator doors open on the ground floor. He steps out. “You’re not looking forward to what you’re doing now?”

“You mean typing notes on pap smears and surgery?” Dean asks sarcastically as he follows through the lobby and out on the parking lot, “No. I can’t say that I do.”

“Well, you would if you had any medical knowledge.”

_I do_ , Dean wants to say, but he’s struck dumb by the way the Doc says it, like it’s obvious. Like Dean’s just stupid. He stops walking after Novak, but Novak doesn’t wait.

“So that’s it?” Dean calls after him. “You’re just going to insult me and leave?”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Novak says as if he didn’t hear him. “Just go home, Dean.”

Fuck this, Dean thinks. He runs after him again. The bastard is fast. “Wait. Wait. Doc! Wait!”

He grabs his arm as he finally reaches him again, and the Doc lets himself be turned around, a fed up look on his face. “Dean. Amelia is waiting for me.”

“She can wait another ten minutes!”

“But Doctor Graham ca—” Castiel stops himself, spits something under his breath, “I don’t have ten minutes. I’m already late.”

“Doctor Graham?” Dean leans in. “Is he interested in the Study?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I’ve been prospecting.”

“For what?”

“Funds. We can’t go on with no money!”

“You’re really working on it, then.”

Novak scoffs. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Dean lets go of the Doc’s arm. “How much have you gotten yet?”

“It’s complicated. I have a few pledges, but—”

Dean can’t help the incredulous laugh bobbling out of his mouth.

“What?” Novak asks, defensive.

“Oh nothing. I just… I know how you talk to people. I don’t know why I’m surprised that it took you two months to get _a few pledges_.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Dean shakes his head, still laughing, but it’s bitter, really. Of course, if Dean was here to sweeten the pot, things would-- oh. Oh! Well, yeah, of course, he could go with the Doc. He’d be willing to bet they’d get much better results this way.

Apparently the Doc understands just what he’s thinking when Dean turns to him, smile frozen in place.

“No,” Novak says.

“Come on. What do you have to lose?”

“Dean, I don’t have time for this.”

“Let me come. Introduce me as you research assistant. I know you know you can’t sweet-talk our subjects as much as I do, so why is this different?”

“No. I need to go,” Novak turns.

They’re only a few feet from his car, but Dean follows as he goes. “Just this once. If it doesn’t work, you’ll have other prospects, I’m sure. Doc,” Dean grabs the car door as Castiel opens it, “please. I want this as much as you do. What can I do to prove it to you if you won’t let me help?”

Novak looks up at Dean again. This time there’s something weary in his eyes, and he sighs.

“Dean…”

“Please. I want to _do_ something!”

Novak finally relaxes against the car, chewing on his lips. He’s considering, eyes lost at his feet. The frown on his brow tells Dean he’s thinking way harder than he should, really.

“God,” Novak exhales. “You’re stubborn.”

“I thought that’s why you hired me.”

“If I’d known just how much I’d have thrown you out of my office before you could take two steps inside.”

Dean huffs a small laugh before coming to rest on the car next to the Doc. “So. Where are you meeting this Doctor Graham?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean walks up the steps of the Grand City Hall, and he wonders if his best Sunday suit is even good enough for this type of gathering.

Of course, it had to be a charity event. He understands now why Cas didn’t want him to come, but Dean will have to fake it as well as he can, if only to prove to the Doc he can be useful outside of the lab.

Well, he looks damn fine, at least. He made sure to put on less blockers, too, just in case. Might as well use all the tools Mother Nature gave him, if they’re going to try and charm people out of some dollars.

Stopping for a second before the entrance, he tries to compose himself. Thing is, he’s a sweet talker, true, but that doesn’t mean he’s not anxious every time he has to face a lot of people. It took him years to be comfortable enough to fake it, but one thing that never changes is the nervous twist of his insides right before diving in.

“Alright,” he breathes.

And on he goes.

The entry hall is deserted. It doesn’t help that Dean can hear the murmur of conversations from afar. He can only imagine the size of the crowd, and his heart swells up in his throat at the image his brain conjures up.

But he’s here to save his job. If he doesn’t have the Study, he doesn’t have anything to help Sam. And then what does that make him, huh? The last thing he wants is to become useless to Sam. Because he’d be useless, period.

The Study gives him a purpose. For his brother. And for Cas.

Dean likes the feeling he gets when he sees the Doc is pleased with him. It’s an indescribable warmth that spreads from his chest to the tip of his limbs. A pride he hasn’t felt in a while, if not ever. It was never like that with Dad…

But of course, Cas is nothing like John Winchester. First, Dean has never wanted to fuck his dad – and he doesn’t know why this weird thought just crossed his mind but he tries to forget it as soon as it does – and second, well. Cas actually appreciate Dean’s efforts. He doesn’t say it, but it’s there. Dean feels it. He relinquishes the feeling.

John didn’t, not even once, made Dean feel like he had value. So why now, of all times, thoughts of his dad suddenly pop up, he can’t say.

And anyway, he’s not here to reminisce, he’s here to work.

So with a determined stride, he turns the far right corner of the hall, takes a flight of stairs down and stops short on the floor right above the ball room hosting the charity event.

From there, he can see the whole room. Leaning on the balustrade in front of him, he looks down at the giant crowd. Little round tables have been disposed around the room, leaving the main body of it clear for people to mingle, dance, and chat.

On the far end of the ballroom is a stage, with a band playing some old, fancy tunes.

The Doc is standing as far as is possible from the stage, and is talking with two old guys, Amelia by his side.

Dean’s never seen her look so bored.

Taking a breath, he starts strutting again, down the flight of stairs that’ll take him in the room proper.

He doesn’t have to walk far to reach Cas and his audience. Fortunately, the Doc has his back to Dean.

The two guys listening to him look ten seconds away from fainting. Or possibly fleeing the room.

“—these physiological responses,” the Doc is saying. “Our statistics show that they’re actually very common, both outside the body, and inside. In fact, involuntary muscle spasms might be the norm if we only refer to the data—”

Alright. Even Dean’s bored now, and he might be one of the only person in the world who’s actually interested in the stuff.

“Doctor Novak, Sir,” he interrupts, and the Doc jumps slightly, turning to him. “I’m sorry I’m late. I wanted to finish filing the applications before I came.”

Dean watches the Doc’s eyes widen in surprise, then gradually narrow in annoyance.

He doesn’t answer at first, what Dean just said registering slower than it usually does. Dean eyes the glass of champagne in his hand, and purses his lips in a smug pout.

“It’s fine,” Cas finally says, turning to the two old guys. “Gentlemen, this is Dean Winchester, my research assistant.”

Holding out his hand, Dean gives the two old guys his brightest, most charming smile.

“Dean, this is Doug Hoffmann, CEO of Gazo’o’Matic,” Cas says as Dean shakes hands with the guy on the left, “and Doctor Howard Graham,” the guy on the right, “he’s a surgeon at Mercy’s. I was just explaining the brunt of our research.”

“The brunt,” Dean smiles as he shakes Dr. Graham’s hand. “Right.”

The two guys laugh. Hoffmann pats Novak’s back. “Where did you find this young man? He’s funny!”

Obviously the Doc isn’t too happy about Dean’s cockiness but he doesn’t say anything to Dean.

Amelia is very apparently having the time of her life.

“Dean’s a…” Cas hesitates, if only for half a second, “a Behavioral Science student.”

And, okay, Dean won’t protest, because he’s been bullshitting since he first stepped into the building, but his heart constricts slightly at the lie. It’s not like it matters, but it kinda feels like the Doc’s ashamed he’s letting his secretary help with the research.

He could be a Behavioral Science student. Why the fuck not?

“Yes, working with Doc Novak has been invaluable,” Dean smiles. “I’m hoping he’ll let me write my thesis on our findings.”

“What Doctor Novak was explaining is… interesting, of course, but how does it pertain to Behavioral Science, exactly?” Dr. Graham asks, frowning. “Not to be rude,” he eyes Cas, before coming back to Dean, “but this is just sex. Nothing ground-breaking has ever come out of it.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Dean answers.

A waiter passes them by, and Dean snatches a glass of champagne from his tray. He needs the extra alcoholic dose of courage.

“The research stems directly from Doctor Novak’s work on fertility. You have no idea what studying sex could bring to the table. I mean, we don’t either,” he smiles, and Cas huffs disapprovingly next to him, “but we have a clearer idea than most people. Like the Doc was explaining, there’s a whole lot of involuntary muscle responses during sex, for example. If we were to dig further into it, maybe we’d find a correlation between infertility and a sort of deficiency in the body’s responses during sexual intercourse. And it could explain conception problems. If we know some of the causes, then we can remedy to the problem. Simple as that.”

“Really?” Doc Graham frowns.

“Well, it’s only speculation, so far,” Dean goes on. He has no idea what he’s saying, but it sounds fancy. Should do the trick. “If we want to elaborate an actual theory, we need to put a lot of effort and time into the research that we want to put in place. Unfortunately, as you probably well know, research is expensive. And let’s say our bosses don’t really like the direction the Study is taking.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Sex scares people. Who knew?” Dean finishes his speech off with a cocky smile, and takes a sip of champagne.

God, that’s disgusting.

“It does,” Graham says, his eyes travelling from Dean’s face down to his crotch. “How would you explain to… everyone, what this Study of yours is about, then? If medical professionals disapprove already, how would you make it palatable for the public? I’m assuming you’ll publish the Study when you’re done?”

“Of course,” Cas is too quick to answer. “But I’m—we’re trying not to get ahead of ourselves. What’s important for us at the moment is to put our speculations to the test. See where it would lead us.”

“Right,” Dean adds, “collecting as much data as we can, so we can lay out a plan of attack, so to speak. Give the Study a real direction. And of course…”

“Finding a practical way to help people with our findings,” Cas finishes for him.

“And if I could manage to get my PhD with all that, that would be great,” Dean laughs.

Doc Graham laughs with him. Cas is smiling awkwardly, looking between them both, but Graham’s eyes never leave Dean.

He licks his lips, teeth shining under the powerful lights of the giant chandelier replicas above them.

“Indeed, that is interesting.” Taking a sip of his wine, he adds, “And the young man is very convincing.”

Dean shrugs. “I’m just passionate, Sir. I’m learning from the best.”

Doctor Graham smiles at him, now overtly predatory in the way he keep baring his teeth, before turning to Cas. “Tell me more about what you have planned.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean and Amelia are sipping wine, having transitioned from champagne after the second glass, watching the other people laugh and chat and dance as they’re sitting back in their chair, almost shoulder to shoulder.

“What about this one?” Amelia asks, pointing at a little chubby lady standing awkwardly next to the stage.

Dean hums. “She’d totally be a Madame.”

“No. No way, she looks too shy.”

“That’s what she wants you to think. But when she goes back to her brothel she goes tits out and she’s the one showing all the omegas how it’s done!”

Amelia laughs discreetly into her hand. “That’s not how it works. If she’s a Madame then she doesn’t sell her body. Only other’s.”

Shaking his head, Dean finishes off his glass. “You seem to know a lot about what it takes to run a whore-house.”

This time, she lets out the cutest giggle. “Oh! Oh, no, not me. I can only imagine.”

“Your husband is about to become the leading expert in Human Sexuality,” Dean teases her, bumping their shoulders together. “It might not be so different from living with someone who runs a whore-house.”

Pink tints Amelia’s cheeks, but her smile doesn’t falter. Maybe because she’s well on her way to be properly drunk.

She starts giggling, and giggling, until tears of laughter appear in her eyes. It’s contagious.

Dean starts laughing as well. “What?”

“It’s just—” she starts, but is interrupted by another bout of laughter.

“What is it?” Dean laughs with her.

“I was just imagining—” She chuckles, her voice pitching higher and higher with each word, “what it would be like if Cassie started running a brothel!”

Dean shakes his head again but can’t stop his smile from spreading. Secretly, he’s pretty sure Cas would be excellent at running anything, and especially a whore-house. He’s such a sexless robot, at least he wouldn’t be influenced by his omegas.

_Not so sexless, anymore_ , a voice in the back of his mind supplies, and the memory of him riding the Doc to orgasm briefly flashes before his eyes.

His smile threatens to slip, but he catches himself quickly.

Amelia doesn’t know him enough to notice the few seconds of shame. Besides, she’s finishing her umpteenth drink, and since it doesn’t look like she drinks often, Dean’s pretty sure she’ll be smashed in no time.

Dean’s secret is safe. It’s not an affair, anyway. Cas doesn’t believe it is, he said so himself, and it doesn’t make it a hundred percent okay, but it eases the guilt somehow.

Yeah, if Dean keeps telling himself that, maybe he’ll believe it eventually.

“Ah,” Amelia lets out, visibly trying to calm down. “Hadn’t had that much fun in… forever.”

“What? Doc never plays _guess-the-occupation_ with you? I’m shocked.”

She shakes her head. “We’d have to spend actual time together for that.”

The sudden bitterness in her voice surprises Dean, and his heart sinks. He didn’t think she had it in her to feel that way. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him.

The mood shifts so suddenly that it feels like even the people several tables over felt the change.

“Sorry,” she adds when he doesn’t say anything. “I didn’t mean to unload on you. I don’t want you to think it’s your fault…”

“No, no,” Dean answers, clearing his throat. “I—Sam feels the same way. Says I spend too much time in the hospital… and he doesn’t hold back from speaking his mind. I get it.”

She gives him a sad smile, reaching for his hand. When she squeezes it lightly, Dean’s heart skips a bit. God, how can he sit here with her when he spends all of his time, and hers, with her husband? Delighting in it, even, knowing the Doc should be at home, but he chooses to stay with Dean, and being pleased with that? How fucked up is he that he’s glad the Doc doesn’t seem to love her as much as she loves him?

“You know,” she whispers, taking her hand away, “sometimes it feels like he actually doesn’t want to come home. He’s always been… quiet. But never distant. Not until…” she trails off.

“Amelia…”

She manages a small laugh, “Look at me killing the mood.”

Her eyes are shining.

“Nah, I… I get it.”

“I’m not mad at you, Dean.” She’s still looking at him with a smile, and, Jesus, Dean feels so guilty it’s like his heart is about to explode. “Just at… the circumstances. But I know that you bring him something I could never give him. So, really, I’m not mad. I’m just not used to sharing.”

Dean swallows. He can’t cry, because otherwise she’ll know. He’s sure she’d know if anything showed on his face. So instead, he smiles.

“I’ll kick his ass, if you want. I’ll make him leave early from now on.”

“Thanks, Dean, I appreciate that. But don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He gasps in fake outrage, “You think he wouldn’t listen to me? Unbelievable!”

“When has he ever listened to anybody?” She answers.

Dean genuinely laughs at that, releasing the tension in his body.

The moment has passed. He looks around.

Speaking of the Devil… Cas is walking toward them, his perpetual frown still firmly in place, even though his steps are a bit crooked. Gosh, if people knew how much you could drink for free at those charitable events, they’d have a lot more people participating.

“Dean,” Cas says as he reaches them, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Uh oh,” Dean smiles. “Am I in trouble? I swear she got drunk on her own!”

Amelia giggles again. Cas frowns harder, but it seems more perplexed than disapproving.

“No you’re not,” he says, and shifts on his feet. “Please.”

And, okay, he’s being serious, so Dean doesn’t tease any further. _He said ‘please’_.

“Alright,” he sighs, pushing from his chair. Then, to Amelia, “it was nice knowing ya’.”

Amelia just smiles, endeared, and shakes her head. The sadness is gone from her face, but somehow, Dean knows it never entirely disappears these days.

Of course, Cas didn’t wait for Dean and started walking away as soon as Dean opened his mouth, so Dean has to hurry his pace to catch up to him.

“Where are we going?”

Cas doesn’t even look back. He keeps walking. “Somewhere private.”

“Okay. Cause we can’t talk here?”

“You know I don’t like talking about the Study in public,” Cas sighs.

“Uh. You’ve just talked about it in public for two hours.”

“It’s completely different.”

“How so?”

“It just is! I was prospecting. There are things that I talk about with you that—”

“Are you being all dramatic again? Because Amelia and I were having fu—”

Cas whips around, and this time it’s frustration that Dean reads on his face as he almost collapses into him.

“Will you just stop arguing for once? Just this once!”

Surprised at first, Dean doesn’t know what to answer. The alcohol is just starting to make its way to his head, so his brain isn’t working at full capacity.

So instead of saying anything, he pretends to be zipping his mouth shut, and wriggles his eyebrows.

Cas huffs, and starts walking away again.

Soon, they’re climbing up the steps to reach the balustrade, then to leave the ballroom. The entry hall is deserted at this time of the evening, still, but Cas keeps going, until they’re hidden from view in a hidden corner of the hall, behind some giant Greek-style columns.

Only then does he look at Dean again. The expression on his face is unreadable, as always.

Dean lets out a breath, a bit annoyed at Cas’s dramatic flair, even for something as trivial as discussing the possibility of a business transaction. Because that’s all that tonight was, although Dean won’t deny he’s had a lot of fun.

“So what was so important that you had to drag me out he—”

With a speed that Dean didn’t think Cas possessed, and a strength that will probably be the next prominent feature in all of Dean’s fantasies, Cas pushes him against a column and all of a sudden his mouth is on Dean’s mouth, all hot and sloppy and tasting of whiskey and Dean freezes for a second.

That’s all it takes for his brain to register what’s happening though, and then it’s game on.

Dean kisses back, sucking on Cas’s lips, his hands on autopilot coming to grip at the back of Cas’s head and the small of his back. His whole body starts singing with contentment and lust, pheromones dancing around as Dean wasn’t as thorough when he applied his blockers today. He wanted to smell good for their potential patrons, but suddenly this doesn’t seem like such a great idea.

Because his smell is so potent, the release of pheromones so unexpected that his body kind of went overboard with it. Now he’s sure it’s coating the walls around them. Not to mention Cas’s clothes. His skin. Dammit.

Just as a thought of Amelia crosses his mind, Cas finally pulls away to take a breath.

Dean blinks at him.

He’s a bit confused, if anything, and maybe as a result his brain gets stuck on the fact that _this was their first kiss._ It was their first kiss and it happened quick and cheap in a dark corner at a charity event, with the Doc’s wife somewhere close. Too close for comfort.

This definitely wasn’t for science.

“Stop overthinking,” Cas chastises him.

His lips are wet with Dean’s saliva, eyes finally shining with something more than stern professionalism after hours of prospecting.

Dean blinks again, “I’m just wondering what I did to deserve this.”

For a second, he thinks the good Doc is going to smile. It almost happens. Almost.

“Do you know how tedious it’s been,” Cas squints at him, “going to those events for the last two months, trying to persuade people to maybe give me money, if I can find a lab, if I can find sponsors, if I can find a partner?”

Dean shrugs, “I can imagine.”

But the Doc isn’t listening. He’s taking something out of his breast pocket.

“And you barge in, with your… your charm and your pseudo-science talk and your infuriatingly perfect smile and it took you ten minutes. Ten minutes, Dean.”

He shows Dean what he’s holding. A check. The sum written on it has Dean’s eyebrows climb up into his hairline.

“Holy—”

“I know.”

“Crap! That’s a lot of money!”

“I know,” Cas nods.

Finally, an actual smile blooms on his face.

And Christ, he’s beautiful, his eyes crinkling at the corner with the joy of it. Dean can see his teeth and gums, and after all these months, this is what finishes to undo him and finally sends him into a fit of hysteric giggles.

The Doc shakes his head, trying for disapproval, but his smile won’t quit.

After a few seconds of this, of Dean laughing quietly and the Doc smiling as they both look into each other’s eyes, the giddiness slips away.

They could kiss, right now, much more gently at that. The possibility of it hangs in the air, heavy, but neither of them makes a move. It would be too intimate. Cas has already crossed a line just a minute ago, and Dean doesn’t want to be the one to step farther on the other side of it. He suspects Cas doesn’t want to be, either.

Dean’s happy, he’s not going to lie. They finally have some hope that something is going to happen. They can move on now. But he knows that this, whatever is happening now, can’t last for very long.

He’s still waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.

Finally, Castiel sighs. “We should go back to Amelia.”

Ah. There it is.

“yeah,” Dean agrees, nodding. “Of course.”

So they go back to the ballroom. And if Cas lets his hand rest on the small of Dean’s back until they reach the balustrade, well, nobody has to know.


	9. April 1953

#  **April 1953**

April first rolls around faster than Dean would’ve liked.

First, he hates pranks, so as he parks in his usual spot in the hospital parking lot, he’s already on edge. And second, well, he’s been wanting to ask the Doc about their participation in the Study, but when he finally convinced himself the night before that now would be a great time to say something, he hadn’t realized what day it was.

But he’s an adult now. And anyway, Cas probably hasn’t noticed the date either.

“Is this a joke?” Castiel asks after Dean painfully navigated his way through a stammering speech about the importance of keeping the Study afloat.

“No!” Dean protests, crossing his arms on his chest and petulantly shuffling on his seat in front of Cas’s desk. “I was just thinking last night… we have money. We have support. What are we waiting for?” 

With a sigh, Cas takes off his glasses. “Sometimes you can be incredibly clueless.”

“Thanks,” Dean huffs.

“You know as well as I do that, first, we need to find a lab. We need proper equipment, and we need new participants. We can’t just start whenever we please.”

“You’re the one who said we… we could, you know. Us. Do our thing, to keep it going. I was just…” he trails off.

God, he feels stupid saying it out loud, but the truth is, he wants to kiss Cas properly again, in a bed, with every inch of their skin touching as they do this time.

“That was before our participation disturbed your hormonal balance. We can’t risk it until I figure out how to change that.”

“Oh.” Oh, right. Dean forgot all about that. “Well. Don’t you need to… I don’t know. Examine me? Take some samples of some fluids, or whatever?”

“I do,” Cas answers, almost reluctantly. “But as you can guess I’ve been fairly busy these last couple of weeks. So if you don’t mind, it will have to wait.”

 _But I’m horny_ , Dean wants to protest.

Of course, he doesn’t say it. The Doc doesn’t need to know that, and it’s none of his business anyway. Even though Dean would love it if he wanted to make it his business.

 _Not the point, Dean, focus_.

“Alright,” he sighs, and licks his lips. “So, huh, today is Mrs. Miller’s third fertility treatment and she’ll be here at two. So be careful during your, huh, ‘lunch meeting’ with Doc Adler. I know he likes to distract you with his amazing stories but this is important.”

Sue him, he’s a bit annoyed. Maybe he’s looking for a fight. Maybe. Anything to let out the pent up energy that’s been running under his skin ever since _the Kiss_.

But the Doc doesn’t take the bait. He just smiles knowingly. “I’m aware, Dean. Thank you.” He puts his glasses back on, which is usually a clue he wants Dean to leave. But this time he doesn’t shoo him away. “And if you should know, I’m actually visiting a place after Mrs. Miller’s appointment. I didn’t want to tell you about it until I was sure it was a good place for us, but seeing as you’re visibly growing impatient… do you want to come with me?”

“A place?” Dean blinks. “For the study? A lab, you mean?”

“Potential lab, yes. Actually it’s a… ah, an old building that’s being repurposed as a small shopping center.”

This doesn’t make any sense, but Dean tries not to let show how stupid he thinks it sounds. “Okay…”

“I’m angling for something on the top floor. It’s a bigger space, emptier too, but I like it better. It means we’d be able to add rooms if we need them.”

Right. This is the weirdest thing Dean’s ever heard come out of Cas’s mouth, and that includes the time when he gave Dean an impromptu conference on rabbit sex.

He shakes his head, because, in truth, he doesn’t know what to say to that. Cas is very patient, hands folding neatly together while he waits for Dean to process.

A lab. In a shopping mall. Great. Why the hell not?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

They end up purchasing the damn place.

Well, Cas ends up purchasing it, because since Dean is not officially part of the research team, it’s still a one-man affair. But they have a place.

They have a place, and between the furnishing and the legal mumbo jumbo they have to get through to make it Cas’s own practice, it takes them two weeks and a half and they’re good to go.

It still bothers him that it’s in one of the shoddiest part of town, and it will be difficult to convince people to come see them there, but it’s a start.

Plus, the place is so far off the shopping districts it’s deserted, for now.

All Dean has to do to give it a finishing touch is to put flyers up in several places, communal centers, bars, one tea shop that allowed him to do it too, and he’s good.

They’re still working at the hospital, of course. That’s one thing Cas won’t budge on. They almost went through the entire sum that Doug Hoffmann (Doc Graham’s CEO friend) gave them, so they still need a salary.

The practice will only serve for the purpose of the Study, which is now registered as a private Study, when they find some time for it.

All Cas has to do is notify the board. Simple, really.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What do you mean ‘he doesn’t want you to do it’?!” Dean almost yells, incredulous.

He’s pacing in front of Cas’s desk, as Cas is leaning against it, and he’s pacing so hard he’s probably going to tear a hole in the carpet, but he doesn’t care.

“Who told him he had any say in it?!”

“You know how Zachariah is,” Cas sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “he thinks he owns the world. Or at least he seems to think he owns me.”

“Fuck that smarmy bastard!” Dean spits, and stops. His head whips around so fast toward Cas it gives him vertigo. “You’re not gonna listen to him, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why are we even talking about it?”

“You’re talking about it.”

“Of course I’m talking about it!” Dean explodes, throwing his arms in the air as he starts pacing again. “This asshole thinks he can stop you? Stop us? And threatening you at that—”

“He did not exactly threaten me…”

“He fucking told you you’d have trouble finding a job if you keep on with it! All I hear is him threatening to fire you!”

“He won’t do it. He needs me too much, my reputation as a Doctor is too high. He wouldn’t take the risk to lose that many patients.”

“How are you not angry right now?”

Cas shrugs. “Because he’s not the one making the decision. The Board is. And even if they don’t like the Study, they like me. They know my value, and they respect me as a medical professional.”

Fuck, Dean’s holding his breath. He lets it out, deflating, and the urge to pace stops almost instantaneously.

“I just…” he trails off.

Facing Cas again, he shakes his head. There’s nothing for him to do but sit, so that’s what he does. “Okay. Okay. We can work through it, right? He’s not gonna do anything.”

“I don’t believe he will, no,” Cas reassures him.

“Alright. Okay.”

Truly, Dean is pissed. But seeing Cas all calm and fine pacifies him somewhat, and now he’s just… perplexed. Zachariah Adler is a dangerous man. Underestimating him would be a grave mistake, but Cas is not worried at all, so… Dean might as well trust his judgment.

“Feeling better?” Cas asks, amused.

“Shut up,” Dean lets out.

And yeah. It’s Dean’s cue to leave. He has stuff to do, anyway.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean climbs the steps to their new lab two at a time, and even though he’s about to cough out a lung, he won’t stop. He needs to be fitter, anyway, because Cas is starting to give him a bit of a complex with his running habits.

Plus, Dean’s twenty-nine, he’s starting to get a little pudge around the belly, and it’s making him self-conscious.

As long as the elevator won’t be fixed, he’ll keep climbing the three floors two steps at a time until he can do it in his sleep. It’s good exercise.

It would be better if it was exercise some time before nine pm, but, hey, they still need a proper job for now. So lab work is night work.

Hopefully not for long.

Shifting the little amount of mail he’s carrying to one hand once he’s reached his floor, Dean opens the glass door and enters the lobby.

Well, lobby is maybe an inappropriate word for the big empty space that greets him. They’ve both agreed it would make a great waiting room-slash-reception, but unfortunately, all they could afford was four chairs and a somewhat nice-looking wooden table. A kitchen table, at that, because it was less expensive, and most of their budgets went to the equipment for the lab portion of the place.

Which is currently nestled in one of the far corner of the space, in the biggest room that already existed when they settled in. All they had to do to make it workable was to put up a wall in the middle of it, install a two-way mirror and add a door to access the lab part. The rest of the room is arranged like a nice, moderately priced hotel room.

There’s a bed, two night stands with their own lamps, a coat rack, and some fancy looking curtains hanging off the back wall to make it seem like there’s a window.

The goal would be to have two or three lab rooms, because this one will be used for the Study, but ultimately, the Doc would like to have a space for his gyno patients as well. One with a proper OB-GYN exam table.

Unfortunately, they’re out of money. Besides, this space is big, but not big enough to accommodate too many rooms.

So Cas has an office, a nice one, if maybe a bit too big, in which he brought a beautiful oak desk from his home. The wall directly facing the lobby is made of glass, so they invested in some curtains as well, for privacy when needed, and Dean gets the shitty kitchen table they’ve found in a thrift store for ten dollars, in the rest of the big opened space.

It’s already better than what they had before. Which was nada.

So, Dean doesn’t complain, although he wants to, and simply throws the mail on his desk and lets his body drop on the plastic chair facing it.

“Anything interesting?” Cas calls out from his office.

“I just got here!” Dean answers.

He wasn’t going to check the mail right now, but Cas’s been impatient, and Dean is kind of right there with him. On one hand, opening the mail to see nothing but ads for palm readers and diet pills, again, will be disappointing, like it’s been every night since they’ve been coming here.

On the other hand, it’s barely been a week, so they need to give people time to answer their ad, and also, the faster Dean does this, the sooner he can get back to actually getting some work done.

They’ve only brought their participants’ files and cards with them, the rest being stored in too many boxes to bring them over in one go. They have one box so far, the one on masturbatory experiments, which is all they need for now to make up a plan of action for the next part of the Study.

Cas is really getting into that smell thing. He wants to try studying the same things they tested at the beginning, in the same conditions, but this time with participants wearing blockers.

And Dean needs to call their old participants back, and create some new forms, and do lots of small annoying administrative shit to prepare for it.

So yeah. Mail opening isn’t his priority right now.

But, hey. He has to open it at some point, right? There’s four envelopes, with isn’t much, so he starts with the biggest one.

“Okay, so… invitation to, huh, the opening of a nail salon. Nice…” He takes another one, “Oh great. Our first bill! Electricity. And, hum… okay, new concert at Tommy’s on the 25th.”

“You don’t have to read them aloud if it’s just adverts,” Cas says in a weary sigh.

But Dean’s barely listening. Because the last one is an actual letter, written by hand and everything.

“CAS!”

“If it’s another bill I don’t want to hear about it.”

“No,” Dean shoots up from his seat and almost runs into Cas’s office. “Look!! We have a participant!!”

Cas blinks at him. “Well. That’s good.”

“Good? Good! That’s all you have?”

“One participant does not a study make, Dean.”

Dean opens his mouth to answer but his brain doesn’t find anything. Okay, it’s true, but Cas could at least act excited about it! This, participants, is the only thing they can’t do without. So even if it’s just one of them, honestly, it’s still something.

It means the flyers work when they actually say what they need to say. Fuck! Cas is the fucking definition of a killjoy. Dean wants to—

“If you want to tell me to go fuck myself, go ahead,” Cas says as he raises an eyebrow, “but do it quick, I still have a lot of work to do tonight.”

Dean can only huff at that, because, well… this Cas’s brand of dry humor never fails to amuse him. He likes this playful Cas much better than the other sides of the Doc.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yes. This has been pretty much established over the last year. Now please…”

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” Dean sighs.

He pretends he doesn’t see the little side-smile on the Doc’s face when he turns around and joins his desk again. He has things to do, too, after all. And he’s scared that if he mentions the rare times when the Doc smiles, he won’t do it again.

So Dean doesn’t say anything. He keeps it for himself, and he lets it carry him through his tedious evening.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The phone rings, and Dean eyes it warily.

Today is Saturday, and he has the day off, thank God, because Cas has been in a pretty great mood. He said, and Dean’s only quoting here, that, “with all the good job that you did, you deserve an entire weekend to yourself, Dean. And I do too.” So who’s Dean to contradict that, huh?

Besides, Sam’s not here for once, and as much as Dean loves his brother, he also appreciates some time to himself.

Not that Sam being away to visit his future campus makes Dean feel good, but he tries to look at the bright side of things. At least, he has some quiet time to do whatever he wants. Alone.

So he did nothing all morning, did nothing all afternoon, and he was preparing to do fuck-all this evening, but now the phone’s ringing, and he’s a bit annoyed.

Didn’t Sam tell his friends he was away for the weekend?

“Yeah?” he almost barks into the receiver.

“ _Heya, Brother!_ ”

Holy shit, Dean’s dick jumps just hearing the sound of Benny’s voice. The surprise cut off all annoyance, and he’s suddenly feeling a lot more excited about his free weekend.

“Benny! Man, I’m so glad to hear your voice! Are you in town?”

“ _Just dropped in, yeah. Wanna meet up?_ ”

“Fuck yes!”

“ _I’m stayin’ at the Palmer Motel, just like last time_.”

“Well, I’ve got something better.” Dean teases, winding the phone cable around his finger. “Sam’s out of town. All the way in California, actually.” 

Benny laughs, “ _What is he doin’ out there? Secret lover?_ ”

“Nah. Visiting his future school, if you can believe it.”

“ _Man_ ,” Benny whistles. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

“Eh, I’ll be fine. You know me.”

“ _Sure, Brother. Well_ ,” Benny exhales, and Dean’s giddiness doubles, “ _I can drop by with a pizza and some brews, what do you say? You can tell me all about it_.”

“That would be great. I can’t wait!”

“ _Alright. See ya’ soon_.”

“See you,” Dean smiles.

He almost breaks the receiver as he hangs up. Time to tidy the place up.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Fucking fuck me, what are you waiting for?” Dean aggressively whispers into Benny’s mouth.

Maybe he’s a little too excited about having sex on his couch, before the sun has even disappeared behind the horizon at that. But it’s been a while, and the memory of Cas pinning him against a column and kissing the shit out of him has been playing in his mind ever since it happened, just in the background.

He doesn’t know why but today, he’s really feeling the mood of that kiss again. 

“Gimme a second to get naked, will you?” Benny answers, shaking his head in amusement. “What’s gotten into you?”

“’S been a while, is all.”

“Hasn’t been that long since last time, Chief.”

“Well, maybe I missed you,” Dean breathes into another kiss, leaning up on his elbows.

Something in the way Dean said this, or maybe in the words themselves, stops Benny. He pulls away, slowly. Warily. “Dean, Brother, I like you a lot, but you know me, I don’t do Heats.”

“What? No. I’m not—” He licks his lips, shakes his head. “Look. I’m sorry I frightened you. But…” he runs his fingers on Benny’s naked arm, and already the heat of his body is enough to make Dean want to squirm. “My last Heat wasn’t that long ago, maybe it’s just a remnant of that, alright? I just really want you right now. Besides, you’d be able to smell it if I was. So there’s no danger, okay?”

For a second, he thinks Benny’s not convinced, but his friend finally huffs a little laugh. “Alright.” He leans closer, mouth grazing Dean’s cheek. “Where were we, then? Oh, right.”

With one strong move, he pulls Dean’s sweatpants off him like it’s no sweat. Dean’s body reacts with a shudder, and a tiny leak of slick.

“Oh, it’s on,” Dean answers Benny’s smoldering smug look with a grin of his own.

“Just,” benny says as he plunges into Dean’s neck to drop a kiss there, “I don’t want any misunderstanding between us. This is all in good fun, right?”

“Of course,” Dean answers.

He’s a bit distracted, but he can’t stop his guts from twisting unpleasantly at the words. It’s not like he’s a needy guy. Benny’s never had a reason to complain before, he doesn’t see why now of all times it should be different.

“Not like I’m the settling-down type, anyway,” he adds. Because fuck him and his need to get the last word. Always.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Brother.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m glad, too.” He pulls at Benny, grasping his mouth with his own, until Benny complies to his silent request and turns them around. Dean’s straddling him now, and he feels a little bit better about everything. “Now stop talking and fuck me.”

Benny’s answer is a completely oblivious, wolfish grin.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Is this me or is this month never ending? Like, ever,” Dean complains, wiping his brow.

The time is seven thirty, and they rushed from the hospital to their private practice. They’ve also rushed the six flights of stairs that led to the third floor, and Dean is about to die.

Not that he’ll show that to the Doc, who looks perfectly fine, and like he could do it three more times before he lets a single bead of sweat escape the pores of his skin.

They’ve done that every single day this week, and yet. Dean’s still about to keel over and pass out every time. He wants one day, just a single day to sleep in. Sunday is too far away, still.

Cas doesn’t bother answering, entering the lobby with a sigh instead.

“Okay,” Dean admits defeats. He follows to his desk, and tries not to complain about the cold, or the smell, or anything else.

There’s some nervous energy running under his skin. He doesn’t know why now, all of a sudden. They’ve reviewed candidates before, and everything was fine.

Well, tonight, they’re on their own. So this might be a little different. This is all theirs.

“We’re doing this in your office, right?”

Castiel nods, “Where else would you want to do it?”

“Right. So interview, then a tour of the lab if the candidates are suitable. Anything else?”

“Well there’s three of them,” Cas half-shrugs. “If the interview process is indeed shorter now that we’ve condensed the medical history part of it, we could… ask about a masturbatory session. I think it would be great to separate those who only came for the money and won’t show on the actual start of the study sessions from those who are really interested. What do you think?”

 _What do you think_ , he asks, and Dean takes a second to enjoy it while it lasts.

“Wouldn’t… wouldn’t that make us look untrustworthy? Like, ‘alright, come for an interview’, and next thing they know they’re naked in an exam room. That’s kind of shady.”

“I know,” Cas agrees, “but I think it would be better for us. We need to come back to the level we were at with the former participants. If we want to forget the whole fiasco with the Board, we need to start again, from the beginning. Did you hear back from them, by the way? The last participants?”

Dean nods, “Ash is up for it, you know him. Dr. Adler hasn’t answered my calls, I think he knows why we’re calling, but I can’t be sure why he’s not saying anything.”

“He’s been avoiding me as well. I’ll talk to him.”

“Charlie wants some time to think on it. I haven’t heard back from Dorothy, yet.”

Cas pushes his glasses up on his nose. “What about tonight?”

“Just the three we—you selected,” Dean answers, refraining from rolling his eyes. He’s only gave the Doc his unwanted opinion, after all, not like he helped pick them. At all. “Andrea Kormos, 25, Omega. You wanted to pair her with Roy Olson, 32, Alpha. Third one is Gilda Farrah, 26, Alpha. Are we only doing young people?”

Castiel shrugs, “We’re taking the profile that come to us, Dean, you know that.”

“No, I’m not complaining. It’s just… weird.” 

“Well if we decide to find some middle-aged people, maybe avoiding pubs to advertise would be a good idea.”

Dean huffs. “There was one tea shop in there, too.”

“Oh right,” Cas lifts an unconvinced eyebrow at him, “forgive me. I forgot about the only flyer you put up in a place that isn’t a rock’n’roll bar. My bad.”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh at me. Next time you’ll go and do it, if you’re so clever.”

Instead of answering, Cas just rolls his eyes, and abandons Dean in favor of setting up the lab. Laughing to himself, Dean shakes his head.

Right. Time to get to work. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

They accompany Andrea back to the lobby, and lead her out with, it has to be said, a sigh of relief. Dean didn’t think she would go for the surprise session, but fortunately for them, she did, and she was even quick about it.

“What time is it?” Dean asks.

He has no fancy watch, unlike Cas, and they didn’t think to invest into a clock until now. Dean has to remember to write it down somewhere.

“Eight-twenty, we’re just in time for the next participant.”

If they play their cards right, they can see everyone before midnight, and they can even manage to have them miss each other by a few minutes, so that they won’t see other participants.

This is the important part, right there. Most of them do this under the cover of anonymity, if they were to bump into each other before their were paired, or with someone they’re not paired with, it could mean a lot of trouble for Dean and Cas.

“Alright,” Dean breathes out. “I’ll be in the lab, then.” And he runs there, not waiting for Cas’s reply.

They both know he needs to set up things fast. Cas can greet this Roy guy, and they can all meet up in Cas’s office. It’s better this way, really. If an Alpha is greeted by another Alpha, it helps. Dean doesn’t know why it’s the case, of course, but he doesn’t ask. Just like the Doc didn’t ask why Dean insisted to be the one to greet the omegas in turn.

Of course, it makes more sense to him. An omega, alone and at ease in this sterile space leaves a much better impression on another omega than a single stern Alpha with a perpetual frown on his face. Especially for the subject matter they’re treating.

So Dean changes the sheets as fast as he can, grabs a spare towel and puts it to warm on the heater inside the room, cleans up what needs to be cleaned up, and rushes back to the Doc’s office.

“Ah, here’s Dean,” Cas says when Dean enters the room, and Dean stops dead at the threshold, because this can’t be Benny sitting facing the Doc. It can’t be.

“Heya,” Benny says as he turns around.

The wink he gives Dean says all Dean needs to know.

“Mister Olson just arrived,” Cas says, oblivious, “I was just explaining the basis of our research.”

Benny is Roy Olson. Benny signed up for the study, under a fake name. Dean’s brain is scrambling for an explanation, but as much as he’d like to find one, nothing comes up.

“Dean?” Cas frowns.

Dean huffs an awkward laugh and finally closes the door behind himself. He panics, he realizes as he walks to his chair next to Cas, he’s very clearly panicking, because he doesn’t say anything. Instead he just… pretends like he doesn’t know Benny. Why the hell not?

Maybe Benny just wants to preserve his anonymity?

“Shall we start?” Cas asks, turning to Dean.

Right, his cue. He makes the participants feel comfortable first, then Cas can go on with the nosey questions. That’s the plan.

“I, hum… okay.” He shuffles the form in front of him, grabs his pen, lets it drop. _Dammit_. He pick it up again, mentally cursing himself. “So, Mister, huh, Olson.” He gives Benny the stinkiest eye he can muster, but benny isn’t fazed. He’s smiling, in fact.

“That’s me.”

“We’re going to ask some very invasive questions, but trust that it’s all… it’s all…” Christ, what is he doing? They’re going to ask about his last sexual encounter, and either he’s gonna blab all about Dean, and Dean’s entire body is going to turn into a furnace fueled by shame, or… it’s not going to be Dean. And then Dean doesn’t what would happen. Would he be jealous?

“Are you okay?” Cas asks, concerned this time.

“I’m fine, sorry. We’re just trying to establish a basis on which to base your results,” he goes on, addressing Benny like nothing’s wrong.

Benny is starting to look somewhat apologetic as well, but he doesn’t say anything. He nods.

“We’ll start with the more innocuous questions,” Cas says, slowly, side-eyeing Dean as he tries to understand what’s wrong. “Dean?”

“Right. Profession?”

“I’m a musician,” Benny answers. “I’m on the road, mostly, touring the country.”

“Wouldn’t that be a problem if we decide you were to participate in our study?” Dean asks, more aggressively than he intended.

Cas is really starting to look at him weird.

“I’m between jobs at the moment. I can spare a bit of my time.”

“What Dean means,” Cas amends. And, really, did the world just turned on its axis? Fuck, Dean is starting to sweat. “Is that the Study has no real deadline. At least for now. We might request your participation tomorrow, or in a month. Two months. Do you think you’d be able to find time for us when we need you?”

“I come by often,” Benny says, turning up the charm. “I have a friend I like to visit. Real piece of sweets, too.” He winks. The Bastard.

“That’s not gonna cut it,” Dean says.

Cas sighs, “It might be a problem, but we can’t know that yet.” He takes the form from under Dean, sliding it to his side, and goes on.

“You’re 32.”

“Correct,” Benny says.

Dean’s just lost all his privileges for the night in a couple of minutes, it seems. All he can do now is sit back and watch it happen.

“You presented as Alpha?”

“Correct.”

“At what age did you present?”

“Uh, around fourteen.”

“Any problems with you presentation?”

“No. It took a coupla’ month, but the doctors said it was normal.”

“Yes, quite. Then I think we can move on to the more… awkward line of questioning, if that’s alright with you?”

“I’m all for it,” Benny smiles, leaning back with an arm across the back of the seat.

“When did you lose your virginity? And how?”

“Ah. I was… seventeen. Sixteen? No, seventeen.” Benny licks his lips, his eyes clearly shifting to the side in reminiscence. There’s something secretive about the smile on his lips, too. “She was a friend. My best friend at the time, really. We weren’t dating, per say, but we were always together. So one night… I guess we had a coupla’ beers, went out to the drive-in to watch a movie, and the rest is history.”

“So you had sex in your car, at a drive-in, if I follow?”

“Yep.” Benny’s eyes shift to Dean. “Beds are fine, though. It was just…” he comes back to Cas, “spur of the moment.”

“It’s perfectly fine. A lot of people have their first time in a car.” Cas looks up, aiming for a reassuring smile. “It’s the best solution for teenagers, usually.”

“Sure is.”

“Dean,” Castiel turns to him again, and this time, one of his eyebrows raises in a questioning manner. “You want to take over for this part?”

Dean recognizes this as the second chance that it is, and nods as he exhales, “Yeah.”

If Benny can be as chill is he appears, Dean can too. Knowing the man, there’s nothing malicious about this whole thing, he just didn’t want to use his real name. He’s been truthful about being a musician and travelling and about his presenting age, as far as Dean knows, he’s been truthful about the other things too.

So maybe he just wants to make some quick bucks. A Study that promises to pay him for a few public orgasms? Yeah, Dean sees how Benny would jump on the occasion.

“So, we need to know what your favorite positions to reach orgasm are. Alone, and with another person. This will allow us to compare your usual habits with what we’ll ask you to do.”

“Alright,” Benny licks his lips again, and his eyes find Dean’s. “Well alone, I don’t do it often so usually on my bed. Just a quick rub out, you know? Just to clean the pipes.”

And Dean knows what’s running through Benny’s mind in that moment, if his little smirk is any indication. He’s told Dean enough. _Why bother cookin’ when you have plenty o’ cooks willin’ to do it for you?_

“Okay,” he just says, while Cas is scribbling all this down. “And with people?”

“I don’t know if I like any position better than another, but I enjoy being on top, if this is what you mean. And, hum, yeah, I don’t know what more I can say. I like calling the shots.”

“That’s, huh, that’s fine,” Dean stammers as he looks down between his hands.

Right. Cas has the forms. Shit, he really doesn’t want to have to ask that question and sit here through the answer, but not like he has a choice.

“In order to get a better idea of your habits,” he continues, looking up at Benny, “would you mind recounting your last sexual encounter? Or, at least, one of the last encounter that you had, that would’ve been pretty typical for you?”

 _Like with someone who isn’t me for example_ , he prays.

“Sure. How… what do you wanna know?”

“Just go through it as it happened,” Cas answers, pen at the ready. “Start with who initiated and how, and you can go in as much detail as you want. We won’t judge whatever happened, we just want to record it, so to speak, as accurately as possible.”

Benny exhales, and the look he gives Dean says it all. His last encounter was Dean, and he’s going to take Cas to his words and go in as deep as he can telling the story, isn’t he?

“Well he initiated, without a doubt.”

“He?” Cas asks. “Your boyfriend?”

“Nah, just a guy I meet up with when I’m in town. You know, the friend I told you about.”

Cas nods, “His secondary gender?”

Benny huffs, “Omega. What else?”

“Of course. Please continue.”

“Well, I call him up,” Benny says, straightening up in his chair. This time, he’s talking to Cas. “Guy tells me he’s alone, so I go to his place for beer and pizza, and maybe a lil’ bit of fun. So I expected that we would get into it pretty fast, since it usually happens this way, but not this fast, you know what I mean?”

“So this isn’t standard?” Cas asks.

Dean’s slowly sinking in his seat, but he’s so focused on trying to will his blood to stay put and not go up to his face that he can’t even react.

“Well the rest of it is pretty normal,” Benny answers, “Guess he was hornier than usual, but I get those spells too. I can get that. So I get there, we don’t even have time to crack a beer open. He sits me on his couch, starts kissing me, so I turn us around, right? I figure, you gotta heat up the engine a lil’ bit, so we make out for a while.”

Cas is going to ask some questions. He’s going to. Ranging from how Benny saw that what he did was well received to how loud Dean is during sex, and Dean just wants for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He’s so focused on not giving himself away that he’s not even blinking right anymore.

“And he gets impatient,” Benny keeps going. “Keeps telling me to fuck him already. To be honest I got a lil’ spooked there,” he side-eyes Dean, an apology on the raise of his eyebrows, “so we got to chat a little.”

Cas tilts his head on the side. “Spooked? Can you expand on that?”

“Well,” Benny huffs a laugh. The question made him uncomfortable, but judging by the way he keeps glancing at Dean, it’s more for his benefit than because he doesn’t want to answer. “Not sure I can really say, since he’s, huh, not here and all. Wouldn’t want to share something private that isn’t mine to tell.”

Thank fuck!

“Alright, I understand,” Cas says, “Go on.”

“Yeah, so we end up with him on top, and me lying on the couch, and we’re kissing, and it’s all fine, you know, but that’s not really my scene.”

“What do you think brought the change this time?”

“He wanted to change it up I guess…” Benny shrugs, “So I told him it wasn’t going to do it for me. He said he was happy with anythin’ as long as I fucked him good, so I did. Flipped us around, flipped him on his belly… I mean I removed his pants before, ya know? While we were kissin’. Do you need details for that, or…?”

“No, just as you were telling it is fine.”

“Great. So then we got naked, and he gets wet pretty easily. I mean, he gets me hard in record time as well, with that big mouth of his, no complains about that. So we got down to business.”

“You penetrated him?”

“Yeah. Yes, I did. Fucked him real good like he asked. This part doesn’t change much, he likes when I takes him from behind and give it to him good for a while, and when he tells me I just have to rub him a little for him to, huh, you know, get to the finish line. And then I keep going, and I get there too, and we’re done.”

“Alright. I would like to come back to a few things you said,” Cas looks up at that, attempting a smile.

 _Oh, here we go_. Holy shit, here he goes and Dean’s not ready for this.

“You said your partner gets… wet easily.”

“Oh yeah,” Benny smiles, “Not sure if this is just me, but he’s very sensitive. Very responsive, you know? Gets leakin’ almost as soon as you touch him.”

“Can you think of any other indication, in his body language, the way he responds to your touch that would indicate his willingness to have sex with you?”

Huffing a laugh, Benny turns to Dean with a disbelieving look on his face.

“We’re just trying to assess your level of awareness when it comes to your partner’s needs,” Dean tells him through his teeth.

His face is getting hot, he can feel it. He knows it’s starting to show on his face, so the quicker this is done with, the better it’ll be.

“Okay… I don’t know. He knows what he wants, isn’t afraid to ask, you know?” And he goes back to Cas at that, because it must be a little bit awkward for him as well. “So I never thought to check.”

“It’s fine,” Cas says, writing it down. “A lot of people don’t think to check until we ask the question.”

Dean’s always loved the way Cas delivers this bit of info, like it’s no big deal, but the way he intones it brings forth the deepest of shame buried inside the Alphas they interview, and it’s usually a real pleasure to watch.

Not this time, though.

“What about…” Cas says again when it’s clear Benny won’t answer anything. He reads his notes, and looks back up, “something you said about him having a ‘big mouth’? What does that mean?”

“Oh he talks! A lot. Swears a lot, too. He, huh, I guess you need more details, right? He direct me, tells me when to go harder, slower, those kinds of things. He’s not shy, let’s put it that way.”

“Do you find it useful? Exciting?”

“Oh I love it! I mean,” he leans back on his seat again, relaxed now that he’s told his story, “at least I know I’m doing somethin’ right, right? And it’s better when they tell me what they like, at least I don’t have to look for clues.”

Cas nods, “Would you say that most of your partners are loud, like he is? Is this a preference of yours?”

“For sure,” Benny rubs his stubble, giving Dean a charming lopsided smile, “most of them, yeah. And yeah, I like it better, I guess. It’s flattering.”

“So this encounter,” Cas pushes on, “it’s pretty typical for you?” When Benny nods, he puts down his pen, and folds his fingers together, “so no oral sex, no foreplay, you go straight for penetration? Every time?”

Benny shrugs, “Well I like getting blowjobs, of course. Who’d say no to that?”

“Do you give them, too?”

This is another part Dean likes. The way Cas manages to make Alpha squirm is very hot. With Benny in the hot spot, though, it’s a bit strange.

“Blowjobs? Nah, I don’t blow other guys,” Benny admits. “I might eat some people out. I don’t really like it. Don’t think your mouth should go anywhere near those places, but you know, I want everyone to get their happy ending. So when I come before they do, then I’ll do it. So they can enjoy themselves, too.”

He says it like he’s amazing for doing it. Dean would laugh at him if it was only the two of them.

“Okay.” Cas picks up his pen again and scribbles something down. “So if we were to ask you to give oral to the person you’ll eventually be partnered with in the study, this would be difficult for you?”

Benny exhales. He eyes Dean one last time, and seems to brace himself for what he’s about to say, “It’d have to be a woman, then. I don’t… yeah, don’t enjoy eating a man’s ass. You can get why.”

And Cas does something that takes Dean by surprise. He stops writing, right in the middle of his sentence, straightens up, and looks Benny dead in the eye. “I can’t say that I do. I enjoy it very much. But each to their own, as they say,” he adds with a fake smile, before going back to writing.

If the interview didn’t achieve the goal of turning Dean red as a tomato, this does.

Because Dean knows, and Cas knows that he knows, that the only male omega Cas’s ever eaten out is him, and he knows Dean enjoys it a lot, too. And he says that, in front of Dean, in front of an Alpha who seemingly dismisses given oral sex as a form of normal sexual encounter and Cas… Cas what?

What is this?

Of course he doesn’t know that Benny’s Partner is Dean. He doesn’t, Dean knows that rationally, but he still feels weirdly good about the way Cas said that. Like he was defending Dean’s honor, somehow.

“Alright, I think we can proceed to the next phase,” Cas says when he’s done writing. He’s out of patience, Dean clearly sees it in the turn of his mouth, and he wonders why. The first interview went very well, and this one would have been fine, if not for Dean freaking out.

It’s very apparent that Cas wants to move on and be done with Benny, though, when he opens his mouth next, and says, in his fakest sympathetic voice, “What would you say to a quick masturbation session?”


	10. May 1953

#  **May 1953**

Ever since Sam came back from his trip to California, Dean is living in a cloud of denial.

He doesn’t want to think about the fact that his brother is going to leave by the end of the summer. First, because he has other things to think about, and second because Sammy is like a part of him, and imagining what it will actually be like to lose him would be like trying to imagine what it’d be like to lose a limb.

He can’t, and even if he tried real hard and managed, he’s not sure what it would do for him, other than ruining the few months he has left with Sam.

There’s still the vague foreboding feeling of time passing way too fast, somewhere in the back of his mind. Sam has been in a better mood since he came back, excited at the prospect of moving across the country and discovering a new town, making new friends, and studying in a beautiful place, so Dean intends to take advantage of that.

The only other thing that gets Sam excited these days is the Study, and the possibility that Cas and Dean will one day be able to publish their findings.

Well, Cas probably will, that’s for sure. Dean doesn’t have the heart to tell Sam that his name will probably not go down in History.

So in order to spend more time with Sam since he has to work twice as much these days, and to satisfy his little brother, he decided to take him to their new Clinic.

So here there are. And Sam is not happy about it.

Dean opens the door and ushers Sam inside, shuffling in behind him.

“Doc? We’re here!”

“If you came empty-handed you can turn right back,” Comes Cas far-away reply.

He’s in the lab, then.

“I brought Chinese!” Dean shakes the take-out bag into the air.

Sam gives him an odd look, but doesn’t speak as he enters the near-empty lobby.

“Perfect,” Cas exclaims as he comes out of the lab. “Hello, Sam.”

“Hi, Doctor Novak.”

“What do you think of our new clinic?”

Sam looks around. Dean can’t say if he’s impressed or not. Kid’s been grumpy all day. He’s been grumpy for a while, especially when Dean talks about Cas.

“It’s… big. And empty.”

“Sam,” Dean warns.

But Cas shakes his head with a small smile, “Ah, yes. It is. But we’re hoping we can find some more investors after we launch the Study again. Besides,” he sighs, looking around as well, “we have a lab, and equipment. It’s all I need to get started.”

Sam nods, “Yeah.” 

“Alright,” Dean clasps his hands together, trying to disperse the tension he’s feeling somehow. “Why don’t I give Sam a tour, while Ca—huh, Doc, you set up the food, and then we can eat?”

“Fine with me,” Cas agrees.

He takes the bag of Chinese from Dean’s hand, and Dean is acutely aware that their hands are not touching as he does. It almost feels like Cas is being careful not to touch Dean in front of Sam.

“Alright,” Dean tells Sam, hands finding his brother’s shoulder. “Come on.”

The tour doesn’t last long. There’s only the lab to show off, after all, and Sam stays silent through all of Dean’s explanations.

They’re about to leave the lab to join Cas, but Sam’s mood is kind of killing Dean’s excitement. He stops, sighs, and Sam looks up at him at the sound.

“Come on, Man, what’s up?”

Sam frowns, avoiding Dean’s eyes. “Not exactly what I had in mind when you said we’d spend the evening together,” he mumbles.

“Uh,” Dean breathes out. It takes a second of his brain screeching to a halt before he can find something to answer. “I thought you’d enjoy it. All the science stuff. And I thought you liked Cas?”

“Oh, he’s _Cas_ now?” Sam bursts, finally glaring at Dean, “Since when? The time he helped you through your heat?”

“Sam!”

“I’m not stupid, Dean! His scent was all over the place. All over your bed!”

“Okay,” Dean says, more to himself than his brother, “Okay.” Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose, because, this, this is bad. His heart is erratically jumping around his chest. Sam can’t find out about this. He can’t. He’s gonna have to lie to Sam, isn’t he? “This is not what you think.”

He opens his eyes again. Sam has both arms crossed above his chest, and he’s really, really pissed.

“Something happened, that’s true,” Dean goes on, “but it’s not what you think. Cas is my boss! Who do you think I am?”

The indignant tone is just so perfect, that even Sam is rattled by it. He hesitates a bit, but stands his ground. “Right. He just tripped and fell on your bed. And stayed there enough that even after you washed your sheets I could still smell him.”

“No! Will you listen?”

Sam raises his chin, defiant, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t tell you because… well,” Dean huffs, runs a hand on the back of his neck, “I was embarrassed, okay? And you always say you don’t wanna know what happens during my heats, so it was easier not to say anything, alright?”

Sam’s eyes narrow. He nods.

“Working with Cas, on the Study, it’s… you know about Freud, right?”

“Uh… yeah. Why?”

“You know about transference?”

“Yeah.”

“Well we discovered that it could happen. Between researchers,” Dean sighs. “And we started realizing that all this… the watching, it started affecting us. I mean, you know me, I don’t need much to get going.”

“Yeah, you’re a horn-dog,” Sam snaps. “What does it have to do with your heats?”

“Let me finish. The Study part of our work would usually happen at the end of the day. So, you know, we watch people have sex, we get horny. In our own little corner, alright?” He says precipitately. “Nothing untoward happened between us. But… blockers tend to fail after a long day. So we couldn’t help smelling each other. Sometimes.”

This time, when Dean stops to take a breath to try and stop his hands from shaking, Sam’s gaze slides down, unfocused. He’s actually thinking about it, considering the implication.

“What happened?” he asks, looking up. There’s a bit of concern in his eyes this time.

“Long story short, the Doc thinks we scent-bonded. But in order to find that out, I had to go through three very painful days of heat, and I was alone, and I panicked. I had to call him because I felt like I was dying.”

“Is that even possible?” There’s clearly some anger left there, but all of a sudden there’s a switch in his demeanor, as if something just occurred to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m fine now. He gave me some pills to try and correct the hormonal imbalance. But he said he’d need to take some samples to, huh, see what’s up. How we could correct that.”

Sam huffs, “Doesn’t explain why his scent was all over our place.”

“Well, the only way to make this one bout of heat bearable was for me to… Christ, I can’t believe I’m explaining this to you. I needed to smell him. While I was… you know. Only way for it not to hurt.”

“Holy shit, Dean!”

“I know. Imagine how I felt when the heat was over. I had to let my boss sit next to me while I…” he shakes his head.

A very real shiver runs through him at the idea that Sam might very well be imagining it right now, judging by his disgusted expression. Which, incidentally, finishes to convince Sam.

“Man…” Sam shifts on his feet. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, well… are you done? Can we go eat, now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

And here come the puppy eyes. Dean lightly pats his head. “Forgive and forget, right? Come on.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Can I come next time?” Sam asks, mouth full of Chow Mein.

He’s laughing, joking with Cas even, and Dean cannot express the relief he feels at the sight. Doesn’t mean he’s going to become lenient.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on!”

“I would agree with Dean,” Cas nods, sagely. “First,” he starts, before Sam can say anything else, “You are absolutely not qualified to participate in anything remotely scientific.”

Sam pouts, “Dean isn’t either.”

“And second,” Cas goes on like he wasn’t interrupted, “you’re not twenty-one, yet. Even our participants have to have reached the legal age before they can even think to answer one of our adverts. So, no. You cannot come and watch a session. Besides,” he wipes his mouth, pushing away his empty paper plate, “I don’t think you’d find it interesting for too long.”

“You’re no fun.” He turns to Dean. “The both of you.”

There’s still a line of tension pulling at Dean’s spine, but thankfully, Sam’s annoyance is playful this time. The frown on his brow disappears almost as soon as it appeared.

He straightens up in his seat, head high. “Fine. You’ll regret it when I’m a big shot scientist. You’ll mourn this day as the day you could have agreed to mentor me and refused.”

Dean huffs a laugh, “Right, Einstein. Sure.”

“I will be happy to reconsider,” Cas says, amused. “When you’re twenty-one, and you have a scientific background of some sort.”

“Dean doesn’t have any background,” Sam protests.

Dean sighs, “Thanks. It didn’t hurt enough when you said it the first time.”

“Sorry… but it’s true!”

“Dean has a background,” Cas says, very patiently. “He has knowledge in physiology, data analysis and gynecology. It doesn’t matter to me that he doesn’t have the credentials to prove it.”

The proud, somewhat surprised smile that Sam gives Dean doesn’t help to push down the surge of emotions Dean’s feeling right now.

And he knows it’s the opposite of what he should be feeling.

“Uh,” he lets out. “It’s a nice sentiment but I’m pretty sure the Board would disagree with you.”

“Oh, now you’re being modest?”

“I’m not being modest,” Dean shrugs, but it doesn’t come off as natural as he’d like it to be. Truth is, this is pissing him off, and he has no idea why. “You know what they think about the Study when it comes from someone like you, so imagine me. You have no idea what they tell me when you’re not around. So, that’s nice, I’m glad you changed your mind about me, but it doesn’t change the fact that I have no qualifications. Maybe now you think I’m useful, but to the rest of the world I’m just a dumb secretary. And telling me I know things won’t change that.”

A heavy silence descends on them. So Dean keeps eating.

“Well,” Sam hazards, “maybe you could… get a degree? Now that you know what to study.”

Dean scoffs, “Right. I’ll work at the hospital, then here, and I’ll find some classes between midnight and five. I’m sure it’ll be easy.”

“I’m afraid we barely have time for the Study now,” Cas tells Sam, “adding a full undergraduate program to Dean’s load of work would—”

“I could do it if I wanted to, okay?” Dean bursts.

“You just said—”

“There’s not point talking about it! What good would it do? You’re a doctor, you don’t need me to graduate in anything. End of discussion.”

Silence again. Dean can’t look any of them in the eye. Truth is, he doesn’t know why this, of all things, strikes a chord, but it seem to wake something inside Dean that hurts more than anything else. Something too close to hope for anything good to come out of it.

Yes, he’d love it. Of course he’d love going to college, get the whole experience, get a degree, and finally the recognition that he’s started craving ever since he realized they were getting actual results from the Study.

He actually loves learning things. High School was a bust because they were on the road a lot, he didn’t have a lot of time to settle down and properly focus on what he was studying, so what was the point in doing anything? But now, he has the time, he could have the means.

He was just starting to think he had the brains, too.

But being presented with the opportunity, just like that, as if Sam saying it out loud validated the fact that it was actually possible? Yeah, no. Thinking about it as a real thing that he could be doing has fear grip at his heart and squeeze, squeeze until he can’t breathe.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. It makes it too real.

Yeah, he’s not pissed at them. He’s pissed at himself because of the fact that once the dream is not a dream anymore but a possibility, he’d rather stay safe in the little bubble of the things he knows than try something new.

“Jesus,” Sam breathes out. “What crammed up your ass and died?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As soon as he steps inside his house, Castiel is assaulted by bouts of feminine laughter.

Confused, he steps inside cautiously, peeking inside the living room, only to see Amelia surrounded by three other women he doesn’t know, playing cards, drinking and laughing.

This is not exactly what he was expecting when he decided to come home early – at Dean’s insistence, of course, but he’s been exhausted ever since they bought the new clinic, so he finally caved – and he just finds himself frozen in the lobby, wondering what he should do.

“Cassie?” Amanda calls. “Is that you?”

He’s been spotted, there’s no point in staying hidden behind the wall of the lobby, so he steps out.

“Hello,” he says, frowning at the other women.

“You’re home early.”

“Dean has been harassing me for weeks, you both apparently fomented an evil plan to get me home earlier, so here I am.”

“That’s the secretary, right?” One of the woman, a brunette that Castiel knows he’s seen around a few times, asks.

“Yes,” Amelia says, and her eyes never leave Castiel, “and I’m glad you’re listening to at least one of us.”

Telling her this is an inappropriate topic to engage in in public would be bad, especially since her friends are blinking innocently at him, trying to mask their interest in where this discussion could lead, so he just nods.

He’s learning. Dean would be proud.

“I should have called before I left the office,” he says, “I’m sorry. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He couldn’t disappear faster from the living room. The kitchen isn’t really private, but if Castiel sits at the little breakfast table near the French doors leading to their back garden, he’s hidden enough from view that he can relax.

So he does just that, dropping his briefcase in front of him, and undoes his bowtie.

He can’t believe Dean convinced him to go home without passing through the lab first. He shouldn’t have listened to him. Now Castiel is stuck here, in his kitchen, without anything interesting to do.

Well, if he’s going to stay here, he might as well work.

With a sigh, he gets up again, makes himself some tea, and settles back at the table. He has his notes on their latest candidates, so he could work on that. Going through them, the name Roy Olson jumps up at him, and he purses his lips instinctively.

They’ve had one session with the man, and he really clicked well with his partner. Castiel is sure they could get great results from this couple, even if Olson is a bit of a cliché for an Alpha. But something in Dean rejects him, and it bothers Castiel.

It shouldn’t. It really shouldn’t matter. Dean’s level of comfort should not be taken into account when it comes to the Study. It was uncomfortable for Castiel to work with Balthazar, and he did it anyway.

So why would this Roy Olson be any different?

 _Well, maybe because he was coming onto Dean strong,_ his mind supplies.

But Doctor Graham was, too. Dean is used to it, he plays with it most of the time, so why should this feel different? It’s not like Castiel’s jealous. Dean is his employee, his colleague at best, and all Castiel is feeling for him other than that is the product of their work. A simple case of transference. Castiel won’t be duped by it.

Unfortunately, they can’t release the tension together, seeing as their last session disrupted Dean’s hormonal equilibrium. And with the way things are going with Amelia, he can’t do it with her either.

Gosh, why is this, of all things, weighing on Castiel’s mind and preventing him from working properly?

He wants to ask Dean what is so different about this Mister Olson.

Sipping at his tea, he considers the thought.

Yes. This is a great idea. If tension of a sexual nature can be released by acting on it with Dean, who understands the work and the way Castiel’s mind works, surely annoying thoughts can be banished by talking about it with him as well.

The telephone is hidden from view, right in a corner where Amelia’s friends won’t be able to peek through the opening between the living room and the kitchen.

So Cas walks confidently to it, and punches the number for their clinic without a second of hesitation.

Somehow, the tone reverberates inside his chest, his heart beating an irregular staccato at the sound.

“ _Human Biology Research Facility, Dean speaking_.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“ _Oh, hi, Cas. I was wondering who was calling this late, but I shoulda’ guessed it was you! How’s the romantic evening going?_ ”

Castiel sighs into the receiver. “Amelia’s having a girl’s night.”

“ _Oh._ ” Dean chuckles. “ _Bet you’re real happy about that_.”

“I didn’t know she even had that many friends…”

“ _Come on. Don’t you chat a little? She never talks about her girlfriends? That’s weird_.”

“I…” Castiel huffs. “This is not what I wanted to tell you.”

“ _Of course, sorry_.” There’s some noise on the other end of the line, the unmistakable sound of fabric on leather, as if Dean is getting comfortable. “ _I’m all ears_.”

Dean’s chair is made of wood.

“Are you in my office?”

Silence.

Dean huffs a small, guilty laugh, “ _It’s more comfortable than my little table. I figured what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. But, hum… yeah. Sorry_.”

Castiel allows himself to roll his eyes before answering, “It’s fine. But please ask next time.”

“ _Sure, sure. So, what do you need?_ ”

“I… ah, it’s a bit delicate. And I know this is going to seem a little inappropriate to talk about on the phone, but it’s been on my mind since I came home, and I can’t seem to shake it.”

“ _Alright_ ,” Dean says. Castiel can hear his hesitation, probably wondering what he did wrong this time.

“I was going through the participants’ files, and something has been bothering me. It’s about Roy Olson.”

Dean very clearly exhales at this, which raises all sorts of alarm bells inside Castiel’s head.

“Is there something wrong with him? For you?” Castiel goes on. “You seemed… very bothered by him.”

“ _No! no_ ,” Dean says, almost too quickly for Castiel’s taste. “ _I, huh, you know, sometimes, some Alphas ruffle my feathers, but I mean, I can work with that. I can totally work with that, I promise_.”

“Dean—”

“ _I swear it won’t be a problem, if that’s what you’re worried about!_ ”

“That’s not what I mean, no need to be alarmed. I was actually worried about you.”

Dean pauses for a second. Castiel can absolutely picture the look of wary surprise on his face. “ _Oh. Why?_ ”

“The way you reacted when we interviewed him… I admit I was a bit annoyed at you, but you’ve been… let’s say jumpy, these days. And it always seems to happen around his visits.”

“ _It’s nothing. Like I said, sometimes Alphas can be aggressive in their… uh, flirtation. I don’t like it, but I can live with it. Why do you care?_ ”

His answer is defensive, but Castiel was expecting that. “I want you to be comfortable. You’re an integral part of the team,” as much as it pains Castiel to admit that, but it’s true, so he swallows the remark, “and I need you to be focused when we work.”

He shifts on his feet, and decides to lean against the wall. This could take some time. He knows something is bothering Dean, and it’s bothering him in turn.

He can hear Dean breathing. Which means he’s thinking, which confirms to Castiel that something is off, and he was right to want to know about it.

“ _You should go back to Amelia_ ,” Dean finally says.

“Dean, don’t change the subject.”

“ _I still have a lot of work to do tonight. Can’t it wait?_ ”

“It could,” Castiel concedes, annoyed fondness suddenly overcoming him, “but then I’d be thinking about it all night and I wouldn’t be able to work on cataloguing our participants’ forms. And then you’d have to do it for me.”

Dean groans.

“So I really need you to talk to me,” Castiel goes on. “Consider it a way of putting my mind to rest.”

As he waits anxiously for Dean’s answer, Dean seems to shift, blow out a breath, probably wondering what to say to that.

Not that Castiel can boast to know the ever growing mystery that is Dean’s mind, but when he’s frustrated, he is fairly easy to read.

“ _I know what you’re doing, and that’s absolutely not okay,_ ” Dean finally answers in a breath. “ _I really have a lot of work to do tonight, and you manipulating me into having an emotional heart to heart isn’t helping. I’m the one who’s gonna have stuff on his mind after that_.”

“Humor me. I just want to know what’s different with Mister Olson,” Castiel explains. “I know you’re not going to believe me, but I’m sure it could help us down the line. Maybe serve as a starting point for the Scent research.”

“ _You’re right, I don’t believe you. But fine._ ”

“Right,” Castiel almost sighs in relief. He knows that tone though, and Dean’s not all the way convinced. Castiel still has a bit of forcing to do. “Now, tell me. What is it about Mister Olson? His demeanor? His scent? Something he said?”

“ _It’s not…_ ” Dean huffs, stopping himself. “ _He’s, huh… yeah. He was insistent. Kept winking at me. I don’t know_.”

“If I remember correctly, Doctor Graham was undressing you with his eyes pretty insistently. You didn’t seem as bothered, then.”

“ _Well, it was as uncomfortable as it looked, believe me_.”

“But you didn’t have the same reaction.”

“ _You were here with me, what can I say_?”

“I was there at the lab, too.”

“ _There were people. We weren’t alone_.”

“You know I wouldn’t let anything untoward happen to you, even if when we’re alone in the lab with another Alpha. I just don’t understand.”

“ _I…_ ” Dean starts, and stops himself.

“Maybe it really is something coming from his scent. Something that triggers a primal response from you, unconsciously.” As he thinks about it, because this is a real head-scratcher, and he’s starting to get really excited about it, a foreboding thought crosses his mind. “What if he’s dangerous? What if you can… sense something on a subconscious level?”

“ _Cas. No, that’s not—_ ”

“Should we keep going with him, then? Or maybe do a background check. I don’t want anything bad happening to y—”

“ _I know him! Stop, okay? I know him. He’s not dangerous, he’s just…_ ” Dean blows out a breath, “ _a friend_.” 

Castiel takes a second to digest this, because he was very much earnestly trying to reassure Dean, and this makes no sense.

“Wh—what?”

Dean inhales. “ _Roy Olson. I know him. He’s a friend. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything, but I wasn’t expecting to see him there and it… it took me by surprise. And I didn’t say anything, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to stop the session and, I didn’t know, when we scheduled him, I didn’t, Roy’s not even his real name. He signed up under a fake name so that means he knew I was gonna be there, and I didn’t know if he wanted to stay anonymous or if he was fucking with me or—_ ”

“Dean! Dean, breathe.”

“ _Jesus… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry_.”

Dean’s panicking, it’s very clear in the way he started rambling, and Castiel’s brain is going at the same pace. He’s reluctant to state that fact out loud, however.

“It’s… you’ll have to repeat some of that. Roy Olson is a friend of yours.”

“ _Yeah. Yes. My friend Benny, I told you about him once I think_.” Castiel’s heart skips a beat.

“Benny. The friend who…”

“ _Yeah, the friend with benefits. I don’t know where he got ‘Roy’ from. I don’t know his last name. His real one_.”

“How long have you known him?” Castiel frowns. He knows it’s not what he wanted to ask, but the words escape him without his permission. “Don’t you know the name of the man you’re having sex with on a regular basis?”

“ _He’s not… He’s not the romantic type, okay? His main thing is he doesn’t get attached, and we don’t get into deep conversations or whatever. I guess last names are a big thing for him, I don’t know!_ ” 

“This is…”

Castiel has no word for it. It shouldn’t matter, because Balthazar has been a part of their Study, and he’s a friend too. But this time it’s someone who’s had sex with Dean, who still has sex with Dean, presumably.

“ _Is it a conflict of interest?_ ” Dean asks. “ _Shit, could we get in trouble for this?_ ”

“I don’t think so,” Castiel sighs. “Or else we would be in trouble for Balthazar, Charlie… even Ash, if we consider the fact that you’ve gone out with him a few times.”

“ _It’s—We—As friends! How do you—I’ve never told you that_!”

“I saw you walking out of the hospital together a few times. I don’t mind, Dean, it’s fine. It’s just…”

He trails off. What is it? Why is this still bothering him, he wonders, because it shouldn’t be a problem.

“ _What?_ ” Dean asks, anxiously.

“I’m just wondering if it’s ethically acceptable, seeing as it’s someone you slept with. Still are sleeping with. We can’t be sure he wouldn’t do things to impress you, or whether you’d read his reactions wrong because you think you know him.”

It has the merit of ringing true, at least, even though Castiel is pretty sure Dean is going to see right through it.

But he doesn’t.

“ _Shit. I didn’t think about that_.”

Castiel bites his lower lip before answering, because he knows the first thing that he wants to say would be very petty, and he needs to tread carefully. “We can talk about it later. I’d rather we do that face to face, now that I know the truth.”

Dean lets out an anxious breath, “Of course, Doc. Again, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Don’t worry about it tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.” He closes his eyes, because the truth is, he wants to stay on the phone, and he needs to find something else to say, but what Dean just revealed cannot be ignored or glossed over. There’s nothing else he can say, for now. He swallows, glancing toward the living room as the women laugh again.

“I need to go,” he sighs, regretful.

Hopefully, Dean didn’t catch the sentiment in his voice.

“Alright, well… I’m finishing up on all the typing I needed to do, and I know you wanted me to work on our planning board, but I was wondering if I could go home early? Sam’s been raving about this new diner on Park Street that he’d like to try. I thought I might take him before we really dive into the Study proper and I can’t see him as often anymore.”

“Sure. Sure. We need to reconsider the couples, now, anyway.”

“Yeah…”

“Good night, Dean. See you tomorrow.”

Dean just hums, so Castiel doesn’t lose any more time on this discussion. Pushing away from the wall after hanging up, he goes back to his kitchen table. He has some thinking to do.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Much later that night, he’s lying on his side, his back to Amelia, and even though her breathing is not slow enough that he knows she’s not sleeping, he can’t stop thinking about Dean and Roy Olson – Benny, he reminds himself – and what they could have done together.

The half-erection he’s trying to tame down is only exacerbating the guilt.

Dean should not be the center of his world. He doesn’t know how it happened, how the omega insinuated himself in his life so thoroughly, but he did. He’s even the one who had to remind Castiel of his wife, and what does that say about Castiel?

He needs to take this whole Benny thing out of his mind, and make it up to his wife. He’s angry with the way she reacted, cold as she was in front of her friends, but he understands where her anger comes from. He can’t blame her.

With a silent sigh, he makes a decision.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. The rhythm of Amelia’s breathing changes slightly. She heard him. “I’m… really trying.”

There’s a long moment of silence where the only thing he can hear is his blood pumping in his ears.

“I know,” Amelia whispers back. “I’m sorry I talked to you that way.”

“It’s…” he starts, but thinks better of what he was going to say, “I understand.”

He’s met with silence again. Oddly, this makes him uncomfortable. The discussion should not end there, clearly, but he doesn’t know where he should take it. He’s never been good at this. It was always better to say nothing, get the cold shoulder until people forgot what they were mad at him for, or just accepted that he was an ass.

This is new. He hates it.

“I can come back sooner tomorrow,” he finally lets out. “We can go out for dinner. If you want.” 

“I would like that.”

Her immediate response is unexpected, like this is exactly what she was waiting for. Well, he counts it as a great outcome for what he set out to do, but now he feels like it’s his turn to say something, close the discussion, maybe, since he started it.

He just doesn’t know what to say. His brain is frozen. He can give two-hour long lectures in front of hundreds of people, but talking to his wife under the cover of darkness seems like an unsurmountable task.

When in doubt, he thinks, he should try something Dean uses.

“Good. Then it’s a date.”

Amelia hums at that. It’s unlike him, to say something like that, but she seems to accept it. Is it done? Is he okay, now? 

Tentatively, he shifts slightly, turning on his back. He gives Amelia’s back – turned to him, too- a inquisitive look, whispering a small, “Good night, then.”

Amelia sighs. He doesn’t know what that means, nor does he want to find out.

“Good night, Cassie.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Castiel’s next day is the most stressful day of his life.

Not because of anything special happening, but because of the pressure he put on himself to bring his marriage back from the sad and dull pantomime of their former relationship it turned into.

So he focuses, most of the day. He locks himself in his office, calls Amelia’s favorite restaurant to make a reservation, asks Clarissa, Balthazar’s secretary, to find him a place where he can pick up some flowers, and keeps his contacts with Dean at a minimum.

Of course, Dean doesn’t know what made Castiel shut down so drastically. He can’t, and won’t know how he makes Castiel feel these days, how seldom Castiel manages to hold back from touching him more and more every day, how so thoroughly his thoughts are taken over by images of him and Dean doing the most unspeakable things together.

Castiel only wants Dean, wants to speak with Dean, wants to spend time with Dean, and the shame that accompanies every thought of him, every little realization that he’s slowly pushing Amelia away in favor of his secretary is starting to become unbearable.

He can’t fight fire with fire in this case.

So he’ll woo his wife again. He’s hoping it will bring back the love he ought to feel for her. God, it has to.

Whne the day at the hospital finally ends, Dean dares to come into his office, which he hadn’t done, yet.

“Are you… are we going to the lab, then?”

“You are,” Castiel answers, careful not to look at Dean, “I have a date with Amelia.”

“Oh.”

“Please make sure to catch Balthazar on your way out, I have it on good authority that he will be in his office this time. I’ve written him off the participants’ list but we never know…”

“Noted.”

Castiel won’t look up to see the expression that goes with the tone of disappointment he can detect in Dean’s voice. He needs Dean to leave, but unfortunately for him, Dean is being himself and he won’t quit without a fight.

“Cas…”

“I don’t really have time right now, Dean,” he says as he stands.

He gathers his coat, and his briefcase, and busies himself by rearranging his desk to his usual standard of tidiness.

“I’m sorry about Benny. I don’t know how many times I’ll need to say it, but if this is why you’ve been—”

“This has nothing to do with it,” Castiel interrupts, stopping everything he’s doing.

His eyes snapped to Dean as soon as he spoke. It was a mistake.

Dean looks so ashamed, shy, almost, which change so much from his usual behavior when it’s just the two of them, that Castiel wants nothing more than round his desk and pat his shoulder, hug him, maybe, do something to erase the sad frown at the turn of Dean’s mouth.

“I-- I have a lot of my mind. It has nothing to do with you. Or Mister Olson.”

He can’t takes his eyes off Dean’s face, truly. It’s already late in the day, but since it’s the middle of spring, the light still feel ethereal, like the world hasn’t woken up properly just yet. It rained this afternoon, and the light is now hitting Dean’s face gently, turning the green of his eyes into soft yellows. Like two suns Castiel can’t look away from.

He’s doomed.

“We’ll talk about Benny, I promise we will. But now that we’re all set, I need to take care of my wife. You were the one who said I needed to stop working so much and start spending more time with her. You should understand.”

Dean’s entire face flexes as he clenches his jaw. He thinks about Castiel’s words, carefully, eyes roaming on his face to detect a lie or something dishonest. He doesn’t find anything, if the way he relaxes minutely is any indication.

Finally, he sighs. “Alright. But if you can take a night off, I should have one too.”

Castiel almost smiles. That’s the Dean he knows and… appreciates. “Sure,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “But talk to Balthazar before you leave.”

With a nod, Dean smiles and exits the room.

Castiel wanted to leave in a sour mood. He wanted to be focused and serious about his date night. But Dean had to come and ruin everything, didn’t he?

Now Castiel can’t wipe the smile off his face. The guilt is gone, replaced by a need to follow Dean and go back to the lab together, but he can’t, can he?

Because he promised Amelia a night out, and he’s going to arrive home with a smile on his face, and she’ll think it’s because of her.

He’s well and truly fucked.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A week passes, and Castiel doesn’t talk to Dean about Benny.

It’s very apparent that Dean wants to talk about it at length, but Castiel has been avoiding the subject pretty masterfully, if he says so himself.

Except that tonight he can’t avoid it anymore, as they’re currently sitting behind the tinted mirror of the lab, watching Benny and his female partner test Benny’s limits when it comes to holding back an orgasm without stopping the whole copulation act, and then to see if another round could extend the time between plateau and orgasm. It could maybe help men with premature ejaculation problems, since it’s one of the outside cause of conception problems that Castiel has been observing for years.

Castiel’s thinking they could use the Study to help his patients. Because what Dean said in his speech to Doctor Graham made him think, and it could give the Study a more ‘honorable’ direction.

Dean agrees with him, and they’ve been trying to develop new tests and techniques, working from a list of sexual deficiencies Castiel has encountered with his patients.

They’re only beginning, though, and Castiel would very much like to focus on the work. But Dean keeps glancing at him. Soon, he’ll find the courage to speak, and Castiel can’t pretend he hasn’t heard this time. They’re sitting too close for that.

“So I’m guessing we’re keeping Benny in the study, then?” Dean finally asks.

Castiel clears his throat. He doesn’t answer, because the truth is, he hasn’t made a decision about it just yet. Benny is a good candidate for the Study. The only problem is, he’s not a good candidate for them as objective observers.

“Because I’m thinking,” Dean goes on as he takes a note when the machines start beeping faster, “we should probably tell him you know he’s not who he said he was. Before we go on with him, that is. It’s the least we can do.”

“Have you talked to him privately since his first interview?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. He doesn’t have a permanent home, so I can’t reach him. He’s the one reaching out when he wants us to meet.” He sounds a bit bitter when he turns to Castiel, “Guess he doesn’t need me these days.”

“He’s probably too ashamed that he didn’t tell you beforehand. He’ll come around, eventually, I’m sure.”

“Compassion doesn’t suit you, Doc,” Dean sighs, going back to observing his lover through the glass. “I like you better when you’re an ass.”

“Well, I’m feeling more generous these days.”

“Don’t go on too many dates, then,” Dean snorts. “You’ll turn into a regular suburban husband if you’re not careful.”

This is a bit too aggressive, even coming from Dean. Castiel wonders what this is all about. Is he jealous? Or is he just angry at Benny and taking it out on Castiel?

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’,” Dean spits. He chews on his lips, eyes still on Benny and Andrea. “It’s just… you’ve been avoiding me all week. I don’t know what you want anymore. Ever since I told you about Benny, you’re weird, so I’m wondering if we should keep him.” He finally turns to Castiel. “But you won’t talk about it. And I’m tired of trying to corner you to have a simple discussion. Like adults, you know?”

Ah. Angry at Castiel, then.

“Are you calling me a child?”

Dean rolls his eyes, looking back through the glass. “Forget it.”

“Dean.”

He’s going to have to coax it out, and he’s already tired of it. Trying to be more present with Amelia but having Dean taking more and more of his thoughts every day hasn’t made his life easy. Having to deal with Dean’s stubbornness on top of it is not something he wants to do.

Dean blows out a breath. “You’ve clearly decided to keep Benny on. Like I said, we should talk to him.”

“I…” Castiel starts, and in a split second, decides to be honest, “haven’t decided anything. Which is why I didn’t talk to you about it.”

“You haven’t?” Dean gives him a dubious look. “Why?”

Castiel just huffs. “Why do you think? It’s a complicated decision.”

“Nah. There’s something else.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

Deans gaze is fixed on him, calculating. “You know Benny is a good candidate. He has the stamina, the will to do whatever we throw at him, he even has the chemistry with Andrea that we thought we could only find in established couples. So I know you were already thinking of including them both in the scent part of the Study. On the other hand, he knows me, and there’s the ethical question. When we were in the Hospital, it wasn’t as important. The goal was to get the Board to fund us, but now that we’re on our own, it’s much more important that we don’t fuck it up. That nobody can find any dirt on us to discredit the Study. I know you pondered about it because otherwise you would have pushed me harder for Balthazar, but you’ve barely brushed it off when he declined to participate again, so you were kind of relieved because it removed the problem of us being objective with our friends.” He tilts his head on the side, and Castiel barely has time to blink before he goes on. “Although you haven’t had the same problem with Charlie and Ash, so I’m assuming the only thing that could be bad about it is how you integrate and rate someone you’ve known before and you’re close to. So is Benny a problem? You don’t really know because yeah, I sleep with him, but we don’t know each other that much. We’ve had a few sessions with him, and you saw me watch him, and you saw how little my opinion counts when it comes to his performance here. He’s much more interested in posturing for Andrea than he is for me. So it’s not really a problem for us. Would it be for the scientific community? I don’t know.”

He sighs, and goes back to watching Andrea and Benny as the machines start beeping faster. Andrea is still plateau-ing, but Benny is close to orgasm.

“It’s not a big ethical question, it’s more of a social one. You don’t really care much about what the scientific community thinks of you personally, so the natural conclusion would be that we can keep him. Only reason you’d have to want to get rid of him would be personal. So it’s something else. You’ve made a decision, but something’s holding you back.”

There’s nothing Castiel can say to that. He’s effectively speechless.

“Orgasm,” Dean says as Benny grunts and stills.

He lets him empty himself, before bending over to push the mic’s button. “Very good. Now you’ll need to keep your partner at the same level of excitement while you wait for your resolution phase to pass.”

With a weary sigh, Benny nods, and shuffles down to rest his face between Andrea’s thighs.

Dean sits back, satisfied, before coming back to Castiel. He’s still angry, and Castiel wonders if it’s because he senses how Castiel feels about the whole situation.

Yes, he’s jealous of Benny. Not in the sense that Benny gets to have Dean, but more in the sense that he gets to experience sex with Dean whenever he please.

Intellectually, Castiel knows it’s just the transference talking, and maybe a bit of the scent bond that they developed accidentally. If it’s affecting Dean, it’s bound to affect Castiel too.

He wants Dean, and he wants him angry, just like that. If they were alone in this moment, he would have taken him right there, bent over the table, without even a second to think about it. He would have relished in the way Dean would have thrashed against him, all fury and spite, fighting him to be on top, to assert his dominance over Castiel despite his presentation.

God, what a gorgeous sight he would make.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I have a… personal reason not to keep him.”

Dean nods.

“I think… the scent bonding incident did more damage than we first thought.”

Dean wasn’t expecting that. He blinks, brows unfurrowing under the surprise, “How so?”

“Well, I don’t think my rut was affected,” Castiel starts, and he licks his lips to pace himself. He’s a bit ashamed of this, but he’ll be damned if he let it show. “But I have some… territorial issues, I think, stemming from the part of my primal brain that’s being affected.”

“You’re jealous?” Dean asks, incredulous.

“Not jealous in the way most people would see it. Let’s say my inner Alpha had claimed you as its own and it sees Benny as a threat. Which throws all objectivity out the window.”

Dean shakes his head, taking it all in. “So your inner Alpha is jealous?”

Castiel nods.

“We can’t keep Benny, then.”

“Well, we could,” Castiel lets out. He keeps calm, and focuses on their participants behind the glass, as if he wasn’t about to give into his deepest desires, knowing full well he shouldn’t. “If we take care of this bond problem.”

“How?”

Castiel holds up a finger, seeing that Benny is nearing the end of his resolution phase, and pushes the mic’s button again, “I think you can resume your previous position. Andrea, please, try to hold on until Roy is near orgasm to reach yours too. Do you think it will be feasible?”

“ _I think so, Doctor Novak_ ,” she answers through the glass.

“Thank you. And Roy, hold back on knotting her if you can.”

“ _Not making any promises, but I’ll try_.”

Taking his hand off the button, he turns to Dean. “We need to prove the existence of the Scent Bond, first and foremost. It’s been a popular belief for a long time, but just like omega orgasms, some people don’t think it exists, or don’t acknowledge its importance. Then we need to find a cure for it.”

“Right,” Dean snorts. “Simple. How do we do that?”

“Well, we Study our reactions to the bond. We test it.”

“You mean—”

“Yes.”

Dean straightens up in his seat, almost eagerly. He’s still cautious, but the light is back in his eyes, his anger forgotten, and Castiel has to hold on to the armrest of his seat tightly not to react.

“Wouldn’t that straighten the bond?”

“I’m willing to take the risk,” Castiel simply answers, looking Dean in the eye like a challenge. “Are you?”

Dean’s immediate answer is to bite on his lower lip. Castiel’s rudimentary training in psychology tells him it’s a way for Dean to keep something in, that something wants to burst out, but he won’t let it.

He’s excited at the prospect, that much is clear. Castiel understands. He has to focus hard to stay very still, one eyebrow quirked in question, waiting, patiently.

Dean’s always had a lot more trouble hiding his feelings. He’s clearly debating within himself, and it’s with a guilty sort of pleasure that Castiel watches the excitement win over the doubt and fear on Dean’s face.

Finally, Dean locks his jaw in resolution. His eyes lock with Castiel’s, and he says, almost as a whisper, “Fine. Let’s try it.”

Castiel simply nods at that, relief coursing through him at the words.

Finally, he can have Dean. He can’t prevent the thought of Amelia from crossing his mind, but he’s so far gone in his desires, already, that this time the guilt barely stings.

He’s going to have Dean. He’s going to have Dean, and nothing in this moment is as important as that fact.

They’ll be reunited very soon. Finally.


	11. May 1953 - Continued

#  **May 1953 – continued**

Dean can’t help thinking that he’s one pretty lucky son of a gun.

After all, life for him started from nothing. He doesn’t remember what life was like when his mom and dad were still together and they had a proper suburban life, and since his mom died when he was ten, all he ever knew was life on the road with his dad, and it’s been a shitty few years.

When he finally turned eighteen, he was lucky that Social Services had been on their case for a while. Missouri Moseley, the lady following them, was nice enough to help him adopt Sam properly, so they could live together, away from dad.

He’s been lucky that Sam has always been a clever kid, and as soon as he had stability, his brother bloomed like never before. Lucky, too, for them, that Sam was never too traumatized by their former life. Lucky that dad never put up a fight for Sam, just shrugged him off to Dean, probably realizing he would be free to better fuck up his life on his own without some kids in tow.

And then there’s this past year, when, as luck would have it, he’d hear about Cas looking for a secretary, totally by accident. Life – and his dad, if he’s honest – is what made him tough enough to navigate Cas’s moods, to learn how to please him enough that he’d keep him, but Dean also considers it lucky for the both of them that he didn’t give up on the first few months.

He often thought about quitting, in the beginning. He doesn’t know why he didn’t. If he would have, then they’d never have had sex. They’d never have scent-bonded, they’d never have known people could reach that level of chemistry and compatibility in the bedroom.

Dean loves that they get along so well between the sheets, and he thinks it would have been a great loss if he never knew it. He also thought it was over, and that he was never going to get it again.

Lucky for him, Cas changed his mind.

Somehow, he’s convinced himself they needed to do this again, and whether or not he really believes there’s a scientific explanation for what they’re about to do – Dean wouldn’t put it past him to be a hundred percent serious about it – Dean won’t complain.

He’s exactly where he wants to be, in a beautiful hotel room, with room service and champagne and a nice, big bathtub with fluffy towels.

And he’s about to get fucked by Cas.

He’s nervous, a bit sheepish too, but, mostly, he’s excited.

“So, huh,” he licks his lips, and Cas turns away from the chair he was laying his jacket on, “how do we do this? Do you have… steps?”

“Not really. I figured we’d establish a protocol together.”

“Right,” Dean says, looking around the room.

He sits on the foot of the bed, because there’s nothing else he can do.

“So…” Cas starts, walking to him. He sits next to Dean, and suddenly the awkwardness is palpable. “We need to study the bond. How do we go about it?”

Dean shrugs. “We should… take a sample of sweat and… maybe semen? Secretions? Tonight, and later at home, when we’re alone. See if there’s a difference in the chemical balance of our bodies.”

“See how our scents mix together, yes, but then we’d need samples from other people. Ranking from those who get along very well to those who don’t.”

“That’s the first step of the Scent research, then. Take samples, without blockers, after a masturbation session and after a couple’s session, then re-do them with blockers, see if that makes a difference.”

Cas hums, “Do you think we should try it once with and once without blockers? Tonight?”

“Sure,” Dean answers. “Maybe start with blockers, put more on before we start, even, then shower and try without. Write down how it feels comparatively.”

“And we can do the masturbation sessions at home, yes, very good.”

“Then what?”

“Then,” Castiel sighs, “we’ll see. I think that’s enough for one night, don’t you? Especially since there’s a good chance I’ll knot you the second time.”

Heat comes up to Dean’s face and he ignores it, nodding. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“So.”

“So… I… I don’t have any blockers on me,” Dean realizes.

“You can use mine.”

“Okay, great,” Dean answers. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants. “Do we have… stuff, to take samples?”

“Yes,” Cas says, standing up again and going to the duffel bag he brought with him. “I actually wanted to take samples from you, anyway. If we want your next heat to be smoother, I need to figure out how this all works.”

Dean follows him with his eyes as Cas takes a bottle of blockers, a few test tubes and big q-tips out of the bag. “Good idea.”

Cas comes back to Dean, slowly, trying to appear casual, and hands him the bottle of blockers.

Dean just stares at him.

“Applying it directly to the skin will work better than—”

“I know. I know. Gimme a minute.”

Cas tilts his head on the side, “You’re nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous! I know we’re working, but this…” he looks around, runs a hand over his mouth, “this is a lot.”

“I’m aware, but as much as I’d like to take my time, we don’t have all night.”

“I know,” Dean sighs.

There’s nothing for him to do other than get going, so he removes his vest, and his shirt, and sprays his chest as best as he can. Cas is staring at him intently, and even though he’s not moving, not doing anything remotely threatening, there’s something hungry in his eyes. He’s enjoying the show.

“Your turn,” Dean hands Cas the bottle.

“You should put some on your lower parts, too.”

“We’ll deal with that once we’re naked.”

Cas sighs, clearly annoyed at Dean’s shyness, but doesn’t argue. This time, it’s Dean who shamelessly ogles him as he removes his clothes. Cas hesitates briefly once his chest is bare, but it doesn’t last long, and soon his pants and shorts fall on the floor.

Dean keeps his eyes fixed on Cas’s face as he sprays his whole body with blockers. After all, it’s the polite thing to do, and he’ll have time to observe Cas’s… physic later on.

For now, it still feels weird, and out of place.

But Cas is naked, and Dean has no choice but to do the same. It’s just so… unusual. This is not how you have sex with people. Dean loves it, he loves getting it on with anybody who’s willing, but this is a whole other piece of work.

Who fucking gets naked and has an awkward fuck without eye contact? Nobody he knows, that’s for sure. Or, he guesses, Cas does.

This is truly stressful, and he can’t wait to be done, but he also wants it to last, he wants to do it again and again, and how fucked up is that?

Cas finally moves, prompting Dean out of his thoughts. He goes to place the q-tips on a nightstand, so Dean gets to work. Shedding his pants and shorts, he lets out a breath, and shuffles up the bed until his head hits the pillow.

“Okay, spray me.”

Cas huffs but does as Dean asks. He doesn’t shy away from looking at what he’s doing. He wastes no time on it, discarding the bottle of blockers before crawling on the bed.

Dean swallows when their gazes cross, because the want he sees in Cas’s eyes is too much for his already anxious stomach. God, he wants this so much, and is so afraid at the same time, that he’s not sure if he’s going to throw up or shit himself, or both.

Something’s bound to get out under the pressure of all that stress.

“Calm down,” Cas admonishes.

His hands are on Dean’s knees. Slowly, he runs them up in a manner more reassuring than anything else.

“Trying.”

“Stop thinking so hard, for one.”

Dean shakes his head, “Can’t turn this off at will,” he huffs, pointing at his head, “but if you can, please tell me how because—”

“Shhh.”

“Alright, shutting up.”

“Dean.”

“Right. I need a second.”

“What you need is to get out of your head,” Cas says, stopping his hands shy of Dean’s junk and going down again, oh-so slowly.

“How?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Close your eyes, Dean.”

“I can’t smell you,” Dean answers, defensive. He closes his eyes, anyway. “It’s a bit unnerving.”

“Okay,” Cas says, and his touch gets firmer. Dean shivers. “Tell me why. Analyze it. That’s what we’re here for.”

Dean sighs again. Typical of Cas to give him homework while they’re doing… whatever this is.

“I, uh… our primal brains are wired to look for a mate, right? But without scent…” he trails off as Cas’s hands are coming up again, a bit faster this time, closer and closer to where Dean wants them. “Hum, without scent it removes one of the components that’s essential to, huh, appraise potential matches.”

“Right, but do you think it’s still necessary in modern society? How is scent compatibility more important than, say, financial stability, or even good looks? Isn’t that what you’d look for in a mate, personally?”

Dean snorts. “I don’t know. I mean, someone who’s easy on the eye would be a plus, but… I can’t imagine spending my life with someone I’m not attracted to on a visceral level, even if they’re cute. And loaded.”

“Right,” Cas continues. He spreads his fingers, narrowly avoiding touching Dean’s cock as he makes his way up. Dean’s lower stomach gives a small flip. “So scent counts.”

“I don’t know. We would need to see if you can still be attracted to someone you can’t smell.”

Cas hums, triggering a full body shiver from Dean. His hands are reaching Dean’s chest, fingers light against the skin, just shy of his nipples.

“What do you think?” Cas asks. “Are you attracted to me?”

“Huh,” breathes out. “Right now?”

“Sure. And when we’re working. When we can’t smell each other.”

“I don’t know. Are you?” He’s defensive, and it’s a childish answer, but this is all too close to a real heart-to-heart for Dean’s liking. He pops one eye open, “Attracted to me, I mean.”

Because, yeah, he’s still interested in the answer. He’s just not interested in answering for himself.

Cas is intently staring at his body, and he licks his lips as he answers but doesn’t look away, engrossed in his observation of Dean. “Yes. Answer the question, Dean.”

This is more than Dean expected, and he’s suddenly struck dumb. Cas-- did Cas just admit he’s attracted to Dean without putting up a fuss?

“You can’t just say ‘yes’ and leave it at that,” he says, bewildered.

Cas finally looks up.

“I don’t see why you’re surprised. We’ve been doing this a few times, now. You didn’t think I would be continuing our… partnership, if I wasn’t?”

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugs, relaxing under Cas’s hands, now massaging his sides, “I figured if it was for science, you didn’t care who was on the other side. Like you said, ‘ _Just because you happened to be on the other side of this equation, Dean_ ,’” he intones in his best impression of Cas, and Cas, as anticipated, looks properly offended, “ _’doesn’t make you special. If there was a list you wouldn’t even be on it_.’”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t use those exact words, maybe, but the sentiment was the same.”

“Yes, well, at the time I wasn’t particularly fond of you,” Cas sighs. His gaze trails off somewhere on Dean’s neck. He licks his lips again. “And I might have been… struggling, a bit, with the morality of what I was asking.”

Dean fakes an offended gasp, “You mean you weren’t doing it for science? Unbelievable!”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” Dean answers with a cocky grin.

And, okay, this worked, because the anxiety that’s been eating at him since they entered the room has dissipated. But now he’s more uncomfortable than anything else, surprisingly not because they’re both naked -- Cas still kneeling in between Dean’s spread legs, massaging his torso -- but rather because Cas never opens up, and this looks like it’s what he’s doing right now.

Dean is torn between wanting to hear everything Cas has to say and change the topic entirely.

“I was struggling because I am attracted to you, Dean,” Cas goes on.

Dean stills, his grin slowly slipping from his lips. “Okay.”

“At first I thought it was because of what we were observing every night,” Cas sighs, before bending over to kiss over Dean’s heart. “But I think I’ve been attracted to you ever since you first set foot in my office.”

At that, his lips slide down to Dean’s nipple. Dean’s breath hitches.

“Right, hum,” Dean tries, overwhelmed by the sudden change in mood. He doesn’t know whether to be turned on or flattered, or even embarrassed, “I, huh. Ditto, I guess.”

Cas keeps his mouth on Dean’s skin, looking up ever so slightly from under his eyelashes, “Care to elaborate?”

“I, huh, I guess yeah. Yes, I am attracted to you. Even when you’re lecturing me.”

Satisfied, Cas goes on to licking his way down Dean’s body. “So scent is an important component, but not essential.”

Back to the lesson, then.

“Well, from what w—we’ve done so far, the attraction is stronger when scent is involved. Hum, my primal brain reacts more strongly to—” He hisses when Cas bites the skin under his ribs, “God! To you. When, huh, when I can smell you.”

“Yes, I feel that as well,” Cas breathes against Dean’s skin. He relaxes, unfolding his body until he’s lying in between Dean’s legs. “Last time we experimented together it was like my mind was blissfully silent.”

“Yeah, yeah, I felt that too. Like nothing mattered except the points of contact between us.”

“Exactly.”

Cas’s lips glides down as he speaks, aiming for Dean’s hip bone. Dean likes this, a lot. Being on an actual bed, in a nice room, talking, and doing… other things. This feels real, not the way it does in the lab. His erection is taking its sweet time to wake up, only at half-mast now, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t have to work as hard as the other times to get in the mood, and that’s good.

He’s never tried to have sex without being able to smell his partner, so he guesses it’s part of the whole experience.

“This is nice,” he says out loud, like an idiot.

But the silence seem to remind him of who he’s with, what they’re doing, and of Amelia probably alone in her big house. He’ll take any pointless rambling over those thoughts.

Cas hums, “I find it’s easier to take my time and enjoy you.”

“That’s not what we’re here for, though. Enjoying it, I mean.”

“I disagree. If we’re studying sex, and orgasms by extension, enjoyment should be a big part of the process.”

“How do we know it’s you talking, and not the bond?”

“If we didn’t like each other, even a little, I don’t think there would be a bond to begin with,” Cas whispers, looking up from where he’s sucking a bruise into Dean’s skin. “Don’t you agree?”

Fuck, that’s hot. Dean’s brain stutters to a halt, and takes its sweet time starting again. In the meantime, Dean just stares, which prompts a satisfied tug of lips from Cas. Not quite a smile, but Dean’s adept at reading him after all this time.

“I, huh, yeah. I mean, it’s, it seems logical.”

Cas huffs before going back to work, “Eloquent.”

“Kinda busy, here.”

“You’re just lying there. I’m asking the questions AND doing all the work. All you have to do is answer.”

“Then stop asking questions. See? One thing at a time. Easy.”

Cas huffs, giving Dean his best disapproving face, raised eyebrow and all, which sends Dean into a fit of giggles. “Alright, alright. Ask away. It’s not like we’re trying to have sex or anything.”

“We’re having sex in order to advance our scientific study,” Cas answers, dropping a kiss on the skin near Dean’s cockhead, “don’t you think we ought to talk about it?”

“I said ‘alright’,” Dean sighs, lying back.

He closes his eyes again, goosebumps making their way up his arms as Cas’s tongue comes out to play on his skin.

The talking may have distracted his mind, but his body is still very much focused on what Cas is doing. He’s hard, alright.

Not to the point where it hurts, but just enough that his pulse has gone up as his blood is rushing south. He can feel it pumping in his lower belly, as slick makes its way slowly out of his body.

He can smell it a little, but not as much as if he wasn’t wearing blockers.

“Talk me through your thought process,” Cas says, interrupting his musings.

He’s kissing the inside of Dean’s thigh as he speaks. Dean’s cock throbs at the sound of his voice.

“I’m not really coherent right now,” Dean answers, licking his lips, “your mouth is very close to where I would like it to be so, huh, my thoughts are rather… focused on what your next move is gonna be.”

Cas hums, “Can you track your physiological responses to what I’m doing?”

As he speaks, he gets closer and closer to Dean’s balls, only to kiss them oh-so gently, barely a graze.

Dean lets out a blissful sigh. “I, huh, am definitely excited. No involuntary responses just yet but—”

Cas suddenly licks a strip from the base of his cock to the head before taking him into his mouth, cutting all Dean’s attempt at an answer.

“Oh fuck! Yeah, hum, some tensing in the muscles, definitely, but it’s—Oh, shit, just like that! – It’s mo-mostly surprise rather than a change of phase. My, huh, breathing is getting erratic and my blood pressure is increasing. Fuck, Cas! God, can I just enjoy it now?”

Dean’s complaint has the effect of making Cas stop, and Dean immediately regrets it.

“No.” Cas simply says. “I want to know if you can feel the difference between a sexual encounter with blockers and one without.”

“And you really want to do that while you’re blowing me?” Dean asks, pushing up on his elbows.

“I do enjoy tasting you, whatever the act, but I’m not forgetting why we’re here.”

“We said we’d take notes once we’re done, “Dean argues.

“I don’t want you to get lost in your sensations and forget about it as soon as you orgasm. Making you talk about it as it happens will maximize the chances that you remember as much as possible.”

Dean sighs. “Come on, give me some credit here. I know what we’re doing. You don’t need to baby me.”

Cas blinks at him, head tilting to the side, “I’m merely explaining the process—”

“Come here,” Dean cuts him with a sigh.

Cas gives him a quizzical look again, so Dean gestures for him to climb up the bed. “Come up here. Come on!”

He can’t believe he has to force Cas to shut up when they’re both naked and very clearly ready to go. He’s half-convinced Cas’s hard-on is due to all the science talk, not Dean.

Warily, Cas does as Dean asks. Once he’s within reach, Dean grabs Cas’s mouth with his own. With the surprise, Cas drops his body and they’re suddenly skin to skin, cocks resting next to each other.

The sudden zing of electricity that flies through Dean at the contact is completely worth the undignified huff that it triggers from Cas.

“What are you doing?” Cas exclaims, indignant as he pushes off on his arms to put some distance between them.

He keeps their genitals firmly pressed together though.

“I’m trying to have sex with you.”

“We need to—”

“Nothing,” Dean interrupts again. “I’m not stupid. I can monitor my own reactions, in my head, like a big boy. The goal of the Study is to mimic actual intercourse. That’s why we created a fake hotel room décor in the lab. So,” he grins, seeing from the frown on Cas’s face that he won the argument, “we should be held to the same standards we hold our participants to. No more, no less.”

Cas is silent for a bit, staring at Dean with clear annoyance, before letting out a small, “You’re right,” and attacking Dean’s mouth.

Well, that worked better than anticipated.

“This definitely works, even without blockers,” Dean smiles against Cas’s mouth.

Cas hums again, the warmth of his breath flying over Dean’s lips, “I thought we weren’t talking anymore.”

“Just making a point,” Dean breathes before sliding his tongue into Cas’s mouth.

“Point taken,” Cas answers. And he pushes his hips against Dean’s. “Now let’s focus, shall we?”

Biting lightly on Cas’s lower lip, Dean has just enough presence of mind to realize how surreal this all is. His hormones are going wild, but there’s no way for him to smell anything. And yet, his body reacts anyway, and he feels the spark of pleasure without being able to smell anything other than their skins.

“We can talk,” he breathes, “it can be fun. Just, not about science.”

“Science is fun to me.”

This makes Dean stop for a second, before he huffs a small laugh. “Why is that not surprising?”

“Well, I did get a doctorate, you know,” Cas answers, very seriously. His lips are damp and inviting, and it’s hard for Dean to focus on what he’s saying when Dean’s eyes zone in on them and he can’t see anything else. “If I didn’t like it at least a little bit, it would have a very long eight years. And residency. And career.”

“You really know how to talk to an omega, Doctor Hotshot,” Dean deadpans. “I’m so turned on. Please go on.”

Cas gives him an honest-to-god smirk, “Don’t pretend you don’t like it either. I’ve noticed how you like to comment on our phases and responses when we’re actively participating.”

“You mean when we have actual sex instead of debating over it?”

“If you’re so impatient,” Cas sighs, “stop interrupting every two seconds and get to it.”

How, in the span of ten minutes, Cas managed to relax Dean so much that it feels natural, like a regular night of fun with a stranger, Dean doesn’t know. But it does. Feel normal, that is.

His body’s tingling all over as he laughs at Cas’s quip – If he can call it that – and it emboldens him just enough to cock an eyebrow at Cas and turn them around.

“I’m trying,” he grins in triumph, grinding his hips against Cas and relishing the spark of lazy pleasure that runs up his spin. “Now you run the live commentary if you want.”

“Gladly. Unless you unfortunately decide to keep my mouth busy. Then I wouldn’t have a choice.”

“Yeah, that’d be a shame,” Dean breathes before diving in.

The kiss is messy, yet slow and sweet.

Minutely, as excitement grows for the both of them, their bodies start rocking together. Dean’s seriously starting to leak all over the sheets, but he couldn’t care less. Turns out it takes a bit of time with blockers on, but his body still works fine with them.

“I can still smell myself a little,” he whispers, pulling away when his lips start to burn, “do you think it might be a problem?”

Cas briefly catches his breath with a big, contented sigh. “No. We can’t use blockers on mucous membranes, which would involve genitalia, so… there’s just so much we can do. Slick will release pheromones. It’s only natural. Blockers mostly work on sweat. When I orgasm, you’ll be able to smell me too. Even before that with my pre-ejaculate.”

“Alright,” Dean bends over him again, “Just making sure. I’m well on my way to Plateau and we haven’t even gotten to the good part, yet.”

Cas hums against mouth, nibbling at his lips before changing path, kissing his way down Dean’s throat.

“I am too. I was just waiting for you to be ready.”

Oh, yeah. Dean’s ready, alright. The heat between their bodies is comforting but somehow, as close as they are, the urge to get even closer starts itching at Dean. “I am. I need you in me. Right now.”

Cas exhales, the full effect of the words hitting him all at once.

Dean guesses he’s not used to people being so direct with him during sex. His pupils are fully dilated, Dean notes, and he bares his teeth despite the lack of pheromones exchange between them.

His inner Alpha shouldn’t come out to play, in theory. Looks like the feral part associated with secondary gender has more to do with psychology than they first thought, so Dean makes a quick mental note of that, before straightening up to position himself properly above Cas.

“Okay,” Cas breathes.

His hands are fisting the sheets, like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to touch. 

“You can hold on to me,” Dean tells him breathlessly.

So Cas does, gently grabbing Dean’s hips.

And this is it.

Dean’s been waiting for this for so long that he really want to savor the moment, but at the same time, well… he’s so friggin’ excited he can’t wait to push down.

Lifting up on his thighs, he holds himself up with one hand on Cas’s chest, the other dipping behind himself to take Cas in hand.

Cas’s eyelids flutter at the contact. Dean slowly lowers his body until he can feel the head of Cas’s cock on his hole.

“Good?”

Cas nods frantically.

So Dean pushes down.

Cas exhales slowly, as Dean holds his breath because it always seems to double the eerie pleasure of the first penetration, but they’re both locking eyes and very attentive to each other, even immersed in their own pleasure.

Once Dean is fully seated, they take a second to enjoy the relief of finally be connected in the most intimate way.

“Shit, that feels good,” he breathes, because of course he can’t let silence linger for too long or it starts to feel awkward.

“It sure has been a long time coming,” Cas agrees. “Shall we…” he trails off, looking down.

“Yeah. Yes. Definitely.”

“Just making sure you’re comfortable.”

“I am, Cas. Trust me. I’m more than comfortable.”

To prove it, Dean lifts himself up, giving one hard thrust on the way down. Just to remember what it feels like. Just to test it. Test Cas, too.

Cas is still his boss, after all, and without their scents to serve as a sort of weird relaxing drug, this whole ‘having sex with his boss’ thing is still awkward. It’s hard to forget about it.

Still, there’s nothing else he’d rather do in this moment. No one else he’d rather do.

“Good?” he repeats, because Cas looks more like he’s in pain than anything else.

“Perfect. Sorry, I’m trying to hold back from—”

“Don’t,” Dean interrupts. “Don’t hold back, whatever is it you were gonna say.”

But Cas doesn’t move. Instead, he squints, tilting his head on the side.

“Then don’t either.”

Dean blinks at him. “What do you mean?”

“Benny,” Cas licks his lips, eyes darting on the side at the mention of the name. “He said you were pretty… liberal with how you express yourself during sex.”

Oh, does Dean feel a blush coming at that!

“He was talking about you during his interview, yes?”

Dean nods, but doesn’t say anything.

So Cas goes on, “At first I thought you were holding back because of habits. You live with your brother, so I assumed you were so used to keeping silent that you couldn’t really let go. But when I realized Benny was talking about you and that he was describing a totally different person that I was used to seeing, I felt…” he trails off.

Dean shifts a little, suddenly uncomfortable. He can feel Cas contract inside of him. “A little what?”

Cas lets out a heavy sigh, still avoiding Dean’s eyes. “Cheated,” he lets out. Like it’s a dirty secret.

It’s Dean’s turn to hum, “It’s just… you’re my boss, and I usually swear a lot so…”

“We’ve been working together for a year, now,” Cas says, finally finding the courage to look into Dean’s eyes. “After everything… you really think I would be put off by a bit of swearing?”

“Uh. That’s not just a bit.”

“That’s fine.”

“I can be… huh, let’s say I enjoy a bit of violence. Verbal or otherwise.”

“I know, Dean, I don’t mind it, I told you.”

“It’s just…” Dean breathes, running a hand on the back of his neck, “I like being slutty, okay? Like, act like your stereotypical omega. If I’m comfortable with the person then… yeah, I enjoy acting like I’m their bitch. And I don’t want your opinion of me to change because of that.”

Cas considers him for a moment.

His erection is still very firm, but Dean’s has begun to flag down. And Cas has noticed.

He runs his thumbs on Dean’s hips. “Like I said, there’s nothing you can do that would make me doubt your intelligence, or your level of competence, or whatever it is you’re scared I might think. You’ve already proved your worth to me, with all the hard work you put into the Study every day. All the overtime you’re doing, without complaining.”

Dean frowns at that.

“Well, with a bit of complaining,” Cas amends, and Dean huffs a small laugh, which makes Cas smile in return, “but you do it tirelessly. So please, don’t be shy. I know who you are, I won’t change my mind. And feel free to be…” His smile turns predatory, “your best… slutty self.” It makes Dean laugh harder. “Please.”

Taking a big breath, Dean shifts a little, exhaling slowly to try and get rid of the tension in his shoulders.

“Alright. Hum… you might want to, huh, take the reins, then.”

“Gladly,” Cas nods before pulling Dean off his cock and turning them over.

Okay. That was hot. “I know you like when the omega’s on top but—”

“Somehow it seems like my tastes are changing now that I can experiment more freely,” Cas shrugs him off before diving down to devour Dean’s mouth.

“’Kay,” Dean manages between kisses, “Tha’s good!”

God, they’re a mess all of a sudden. The room feels a hundred degrees hotter, everything is wet, and messy, and Dean would love it whole-heartedly if only Cas would give it to him already.

But the Doc’s still careful, still caressing Dean’s body like it’s the most precious thing he’s handled in his life, and when he slightly pulls away to ask, “What would you like me to do?”, oh-so gently, Dean kinda snaps.

“Just fuck me already!”

And, okay. Cas said he was okay seeing the unabashed, slutty side of Dean, but still. It feels entirely out of place to say it, and it was only a little expletive. He can’t imagine just going all out on Cas, no matter what Cas says.

Lucky for Dean, Cas has no such qualm. His cheeks even darken hearing it, and yeah. Dean didn’t see that coming, but considering the little mirror kink Cas didn’t bother hiding, it occurs to him that maybe he should have. What’s a little dirty talk compared to that?

He realizes that Cas didn’t ask Dean to let go just to be nice. He actually wants Dean that way. He wants to see Dean being a good little omega bitch.

So Dean tries to go with the program. “Come on, Cas, you gonna make me beg for it?”

Cas raises an eyebrow, “I might.”

How is Dean stumbling on all of Cas’s kinks by accidents? “Not today. Come on, we’ve been doing a lot of chatting, not a whole lot of fucking. Not great for a sex study so far.”

“Alright,” Cas says, very seriously as he pushes one of Dean’s knees apart from the other to position himself. “No talking.” And he pushes in.

He rams it in hard, forcing Dean to close his eyes under the delicious force of it.

“Fuck, yes! That’s the spirit.”

“Knees up,” Cas orders.

So Dean obliges. At that, Cas grabs Dean’s wrists, pulling them up and pinning Dean’s arms above his head.

And he goes to town.

“Oh, shit, Yeah,” Dean breathes, finally allowing his head to rest back and his eyelids to flutter close.

Cas pistons into him with broad strokes, pausing for a second every time he bottoms out, and with Dean’s knees up to his chest, Dean feels every single inch of his cock all the way in and all the way out.

Without the pheromones or whatever, his mind is far more present. He’s conscious of every weird thought running through his mind – Cas has a mole on his left nipple, there’s a stain on the ceiling, which reminds him there’s a leak coming from the apartment above his in his bathroom and he really needs to take care of it soon before mold starts to appear – and those weird thoughts make the situation all the more real.

Usually he doesn’t think much, if at all. His brain short-circuits when he’s having sex.

And it doesn’t mean that he’s bored at the moment, far from it. He’s just much more aware of everything.

“Just,” Cas pants with effort, “tell me if I’m disrupting your thinking time.”

Dean blinks up at him, the sarcasm taking a little while to register.

“Sorry. Just making notes, like you asked.”

Cas stops moving at that, and Dean barely refrains from protesting. Because, despite everything, it felt good. Not great, but good.

“I need your full attention, Dean. You’ll take notes later.”

“But you—”

“I know what I said. And you convinced me I was wrong and that we’d take the time to talk about it after I fucked you. Or did you change your mind already?”

And, oh! The way he raises a single eyebrow at Dean at that has Dean squirm under the weight of it. That’s really, really hot. Plus, hearing Cas swear is always a turn on.

“No,” he tries, and clears his throat when it only comes out as a whisper, “No. I’m good. Please, go on.”

“Go on what?”

Dean frowns. What is he—Oh. The kinky bastard!

“Uh,” Dean breathes. “Keep fucking me. Please?”

Cas snaps his hips against Dean’s ass as an answer. Dean barely holds back a moan.

“Let go, Dean. Stop thinking.”

“Am not. You’re the one distracting me. Maybe you’re the one who’s having trouble letting go.”

Cas sighs, “We’re in one of your favorite positions. I’m going as hard as I can maintain without climaxing too quickly, and I’m pretty sure I can go deeper this way than in any other position. This should be ideal. But you’re still not entirely here. What am I missing?”

He’s stopped moving again, and the awkwardness comes creeping back.

Dean clears his throat.

Cas wants a real answer, and Dean has an idea of what might be wrong, but it still feels weird to say It out loud.

So instead, he whispers it. “I don’t know. Intimacy, maybe?”

Cas takes a second of consideration before answering, “How are you more intimate with Benny than you are with me? You didn’t even know his last name until a month ago.”

Still. _It’s not the same_ , Dean can’t help thinking. He just doesn’t know why, can’t put words on the feeling.

“It just seems easier with him. We fuck, we chat a bit, we drink a lot, that’s it. I work with you so I don’t know. Maybe I need more time to adjust when I’m not blind-sided by your scent. Maybe it’s just that I’m always able to smell Benny during sex. Maybe that’s something we should consider.”

Cas is making the face he’s always making when Dean’s about to launch into a full rambling speech. Which, thankfully, reminds Dean he should shut up.

“Do you want to stop?” Cas asks, surprising Dean.

What surprises him even more is that he actually considers it.

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “Just… take a little break, you know. With Benny we, huh… we usually talk a bit before. Pretend we’re not about to jump each other. Maybe it would help.”

“Sure.”

He rolls off Dean gently, and Dean is suddenly feeling self-conscious. He slides under the sheets.

Actually now would be a good time to try on the hotel’s fluffy bathrobes, but Dean doesn’t feel like strutting around naked just yet.

The silence seems heavy to him. But Cas appears completely comfortable.

“So, hum… I guess scent _is_ important, after all…”

“We don’t have to talk about work, you know.”

Dean huffs, “You can’t shut up when we’re getting down to business and now you don’t wanna talk about it?”

Cas shrugs, making himself comfortable, utterly unbothered by his own nakedness.

“I’m sorry if my talking was disturbing to you.”

“No, it’s not that. Like I said, without scent, it’s just… different.”

At that, Cas shakes his head, fond and amazed all at once.

“What?” Dean pouts.

“You’re just… you play at being confident and assured in your sexuality but every time we get together, you turn into a whole other person. And please, don’t take this the wrong way,” Cas adds when he sees Dean’s about to protest. “I’m not judging you. Merely musing the fact that I’m getting to know another side of you.”

“I told you,” Dean answers, vexed anyway, “it’s just different.”

“How so?”

Dean pulls the sheets up to his chest. “I don’t know… first, you’re my boss.”

“We’ve known each other for a year, Dean,” Cas answers gently. “We spend a lot of time together. And there’s an undeniable attraction between us. The circumstances might be different, but from what you say of yourself, we should be compatible. Even without scent. The fact that we’re working together is a bit awkward, yes, but I don’t think this is the real problem.”

Dean’s answer is an annoyed sigh. _Here we go_ , he thinks. He’s going to get a lecture, isn’t he?

He’s strangely angry all of a sudden. All he wanted was to have a nice chat, but of course Cas is going to turn it into an opportunity to show off his superior brain.

And he’s going to do it whether Dean likes it or not, so might as well go along with it.

“Enlighten me, then,” Dean says, crossing his arms together.

“Well,” Cas starts, turning slightly toward Dean, “I agree that you’re not the same with Benny than you are with me. But if you think about it, without the sexual factor, you’re not the same with me than you are with, say, Sam.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that you’re trying to be that idealistic sexual person that you think people want to see. With everyone. It’s easy with Benny because that’s the only expectation you both have for each other. With me, it’s different, because we got to know each other. But you’re still trying to be what you are with Benny.

“If you know it’s okay to be different with different people outside the bedroom, why do you pressure yourself to be the same with everyone sexually?”

Uh. Okay, this is interesting.

“I never thought about it that way.”

“Well,” Cas smiles, “there you go.”

Dean considers it, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Cas’s eyes hone in on it, and his smile turns devious again.

“So. Will you relax and just go with whatever happens?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes. “I guess it’s just weird to not be able to switch off my brain. That’s what usually happens. With scents, I mean. I’m used to my primal brain taking over, but this time there’s not even that. I’m just left with myself.”

Cas takes Dean’s hand in his, and kisses his knuckles one by one.

“You’re in good company, then.”

“Not really…”

“Besides, you forget that I’m here too. If your brain is distracting you, try to focus on me.”

“Right.”

And that’s that. Cas doesn’t let go of Dean’s hand, though. Dean is not complaining.

“It’s hard to small talk with you,” he sighs.

He lets Cas turn his hand around, drag a finger gently on the meat of his palm.

“You talk my ears off all the time.”

“It’s not the same when we’re in the lab. I just do it to fill the silence so you won’t start humming.”

Cas’s eyes snap up to him at that, and he laughs, startled. “I do not hum.”

“Sure you do. Sometimes when you think I’m not paying attention you even sing under your breath.”

Cas opens his mouth to speak, maybe to protest, but it just flaps open and shut like a dying fish and Dean laugh.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think you could hear me,” Cas admits, shaking his head.

But he’s still smiling, still holding onto Dean’s hand, so Dean has no reason to worry.

“I’m just pulling your strings, I actually like it,” Dean says. “It’s just so funny that you thought sound didn’t carry from your office to the lobby when your door is open.”

“I’ll admit, I sometimes forget it’s open. Or even that you’re here. You can be very discreet when you want to be.”

“Hey, I’m just a good employee, what can I say?”

“You are,” Cas agrees, scooting closer. “You’re very good.”

“Hm,” Dean lets out, trying to hold back his knowing smile but failing utterly, “are you trying to tell me something?”

“What do you think?” Cas tries to be seductive, which only makes Dean laugh harder. It doesn’t stop Cas though.

Dean’s not mad, at least he’s trying, right?

And maybe his long speeches on Dean’s state of mind are annoying, but Dean can see that it comes from a good place.

And what he suggested was actually interesting, so it’s worth taking into account.

“You wanna try again?”

Cas pouts, “I was trying to be coy and infer it through sexual innuendos, but yes.”

Dean huffs a laugh again, “Well, innuendos work with Benny. Maybe I don’t want that with you.”

Cas’s face turns serious. He kisses the center of Dean’s palm, “Of course. I’ll follow your lead.”

“No. We’ll follow each other’s lead. See how it develops organically, how about that?”

Cas sighs. “You’re right.” He shakes his head, “How do you do this organically?”

“Uh,” Dean breathes, a bit surprised. “How do you usually do it with Amelia?”

Maybe he shouldn’t bring up Cas’s wife, but when Cas has that contemplative expression on his face, it means he’s asking a real question. So Dean has to use real rhetoric.

“Well, on Fridays we go to bed early and… we have sex.”

Dean blinks in disbelief. “Every Friday?”

“Yes?”

“I mean, no offense but you should know by now that this is _not_ a great way to… huh, conduct things.”

“I’m aware. I’m working on it. But we’re not here to talk about my marriage.”

Alright. Dean gets the message and tries to back off as graciously as he can.

“Yeah. Sorry. There’s just no good way to explain it. You either have an organic relationship with someone, and things happen as they’re meant to, or you don’t.”

Cas hums. “We have good chemistry. This shouldn’t be this difficult.”

“Well, we’ve been making it difficult. First me and my anxiety, and now you. With your… science.”

“We’ve been over this. You like the science.”

“Yeah, yeah. I just don’t like the ‘fucking on schedule’ thing.”

Cas hums, “Yes, I see how that could make things a bit… stilted.”

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m gonna be honest here even though I’m sure I’ll regret it but… I’ve been wanting us to do this for a while…”

“So have I.”

“And now that it’s finally time… I don’t know. Sometimes you could be doing the most mundane thing in the lab and I’ll pop a boner. But here…”

“Here is not the lab,” Cas says knowingly.

And he finally lets go of Dean’s hand as he says it. Dean feels cold.

“Yeah.” Dean agrees. “Maybe… I’m still bothered by that… the… cheating thing.”

“I understand how the settings would make it feel this way. But you know my stance on this.”

Yeah, Dean knows. But Amelia has become a friend in his mind, and he can’t help thinking that if this was really entirely for science, he wouldn’t be as uncomfortable about it.

If this was just part of the experiment, they could’ve let Amelia know, maybe. He understands Cas not wanting to involve his wife into the Study, but if it was really in the interest of their research then maybe… just maybe, Cas would have brought up the idea with Amelia before he asked anything of Dean.

But of course, even the idea of it seems absurd.

Which also brings discomfort in the sense that Dean knows their involvement in itself is shifty. They shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of participating.

How can they be objective this way?

But of course Dean doesn’t kid himself into thinking he’s in it for the glory. The real reason he’s doing this is because he wants Cas. All day, every day, he wants him.

And this is his chance, and to Hell with his conscience and his guilt. He’s not about to ruin it.

“I know,” he huffs, “I get it. Like you said, the setting is a bit unsettling, that’s all.”

“Right, so, hum,” and now Cas looks very hot and bothered, but also embarrassed.

“Let’s try to be a bit… impulsive. Right?” Dean tries to cheer him up. “I mean, it started well when you were trying to make me relax.”

Very seriously, Cas nods. “Okay. Then should I—”

“Cas,” Dean lifts his chin with a finger. “Don’t plan it. Just do it, alright?”

“Okay. Okay, then…”

Cas surges up, lips finding Dean’s, and suddenly things fall back into place again.

“How’s that for impulsive?” Cas asks, smugly.

He’s being all suave and shit, and if he’s really getting in the mood, who’s Dean to stop him? So, he tries not to laugh and goes along with it.

“Great start. Please, do go on.”

Because, yes, this is nice. They start a reasonable distance from each other, but as their lips keep working against each other, their bodies seem to shimmy over to one another without them even thinking about it.

There’s just one thing bothering him that keeps distracting him from what he should be thinking about. Namely, doing ungodly things to Cas.

There’s a fucking sheet between them. And the fucking sheet in question is starting to get seriously distracting.

Turns out trying to extract himself from it while kissing someone is harder than he thought it would be.

As he pushes it down, the sheet gets tangled around his hips, as if it got stuck on his erection.

The realization that this is probably what’s happening sends him into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Doesn’t stop Cas from trying to kiss him through it.

“What is it?” he breathes against Dean’s mouth, annoyed. “Stop laughing!”

“I’m—I’m stuck in the sheets,” Dean bursts.

And Cas stops at that, looking down. Yes, it’s actually wrapped around Dean’ dick, and Dean start to cry with laughter.

Cas huffs an incredulous laugh, “We’re never going to make it through, are we?”

Dean’s now suffocating on his laughter, so he can’t really answer. Cas, watching him, tries to hold back his smile. He fails and soon they’re both laughing, trying to get Dean out of the damn piece of fabric.

“How did you--?”

“I don’t know! I’m stuck here! Forever!”

“Don’t be over dramatic. Stop moving. If I just—”

“Ow! Ow! That’s… Cas, pubes! That’s pubes, careful!”

“There. Here you go…” Cas breathes, still smiling as he pulls on the sheets.

Dean is finally free, still hiccupping bouts of laughter as he tries to calm down.

Somehow, they find each other’s eyes, and the laughter dies, little by little.

“Alright,” Dean shuffles close to Cas, as close as he can be from his face without his eyes crossing, “Where were we?”

“Right there,” Cas whispers before closing the gap between them.

God, Dean’s lips are starting to burn, but this kiss is so soft, so sweet that he barely registers the pain.

“Maybe it’s weird to say this,” Cas goes on as his hand finds Dean’s arm, “but I love the way you taste.”

Dean hums, “Yeah. Same here.”

He wants to tell Cas to shut up, that talking will just distract them again, but then saying it would distract him just as much. And he seems to be getting into the action, anyway.

It feels easier now that they chatted for a little while. It’s been tedious, but they’re finally where they wanted to be; making out, and well on their way to fucking like rabbits.

Cas is really there, warm and real and naked, very naked, and Dean wants to touch him everywhere.

He only has his hand to map out Cas’s body for now, but even with the one hand, he’s getting his fill of firm muscles and sharp bones.

He can’t resist it. He has to wrap his fingers around the perfect globe that is Cas’s butt cheek, squeeze it, test it to see if it’s just pure, hard muscle or if it bounces a little under pressure.

“Shit, Cas…” he breathes.

That’s a damn fine ass if Dean’s ever touched one.

It’s the little things about Cas that usually make Dean hot under the collar. The way he raises an eyebrow at Dean every time he wants to boss him around. How his voice drops to an almost whisper, getting deeper and deeper as the day goes on, when it’s just the both of them and he’s trying to explain a new concept or a medical procedure to Dean. The flash of skin he displays when it gets hot in the lab after a long day, just his forearms free from their constraints, as if taking his coat off would be too much.

But tonight, here he is, in all his naked glory, utterly comfortable, and Dean is finally groping his ass like he’s been craving to for the last two months.

What a fucking treat.

The little things are good, but there’s no denying that the whole thing is even more amazing.

Their erections are bumping into each other, so Dean smashes them together by pulling on Cas’s ass.

The position isn’t ideal – They’re both lying on their side, facing each other, and Dean doesn’t know what to do with his one arm that’s stuck against the mattress – but he barely has it in himself to care.

Finally, they’re skin to skin, rubbing against each other, and the sparks of lazy pleasure pooling behind his groin are enough to make up for the last hour of discomfort.

It was awkward, but he needed the talk. Now, as he pushes his tongue into Cas’s mouth, his mind is more peaceful that it’s been in weeks.

God, the full force of his attraction to Cas hits him all at once when Cas returns the favor, and his hand finds the small of Dean’s back.

Cas’s fingers are hard on Dean’s skin, the good kind of hard, as he runs his hand down to feel Dean’s ass too.

The butterflies in Dean’s lower belly seem to scatter all over his body and he starts leaking. His scent seems to overpower everything.

He needs Cas to take him right now.

He can’t wait any longer.

With an impatience he didn’t think he could feel without having Cas’s scent in his nose, he hooks up a leg around Cas’s hips, pushing up a little so Cas’s cock with line up perfectly with his hole.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to say it twice. Cas breathes a small, “Yes,” against his mouth, and pushes in.

It’s the same as thirty minutes before, except it’s totally different.

First, Cas doesn’t interjects with science facts, which is nice. He just goes to town this time, but it’s not only physical. There’s another dimension to it, in the way Cas holds him, moves his arms around Dean like he wants them to be a whole person, as if he wants them to melt into one another, as if they could be any closer than they already are.

Dean moans as Cas bottoms out, and squeezes Cas harder.

He wants that too. He wants to boil from the inside from how close they are, wants to feel his muscles hurt from holding onto Cas too hard.

His thighs are already starting to burn from trying to hold on to Cas’s hips and moving his own at the same time, so that’s a good start.

They’re both sweating, but so far Dean can only smell the slick that keeps pouring and pouring out of him. He’s not sure he won’t faint from dehydration before they can finish at this rate.

It’s okay, though. Kissing is enough for now, he gets his fill of Cas this way, even if the smell of the blockers – the smell of _nothing_ – is a bit destabilizing.

He doesn’t have enough brain power to think on it too much, anyway.

He won’t last long, despite everything. Cas is giving as good as he’s got, plowing into Dean like they’re not planning on it again tonight, and, really, Dean should worry, he should tell him to slow down, but he can’t.

He can only pant into Cas’s mouth, making valiant efforts to keep kissing him, but he’s starting to focus more on his lower body than anything else, on where they’re connected.

Cas is making these delicious broken noises, like his pleasure is too much for him to handle. Like he’s putting so much energy into fucking Dean that his voice is giving out under the strength of it.

Dean knows all he needs is a coupla’ strokes and he’s done for.

His thoughts slowly melt away. The orgasm is right there, pooling in his groin. He can’t help it, he has to reach down to grab himself.

One pump, two pumps. Cas moans, filthy and gorgeous and his body locks up.

Dean feels him coming inside him. Another pump, and Dean tenses too.

“Mother. Fucking. Shi—” he lets out, almost out of desperation, before his breath is taken away by his orgasm.

Cas kisses him through it. Dean keens as the last spasm of muscles leaves him boneless and breathless, and Cas finally lets him go.

God, Dean thinks, blinking his eyes open, they’re a mess.

Cas looks thoroughly fucked, as he ought to, and Dean’s sure he looks the same, if not worse.

But they did it, they had sex without blockers, and it was sweat and messy and desperate and a whole host of other things Dean’s not ready to voice, even in his head.

It was also fucking wild.

He chooses to focus on that. And maybe they stare at each other in awed silence for little too long. Maybe they stay tied to each other longer than is considered socially acceptable when not knotted, but it doesn’t matter.

Dean hasn’t felt that peaceful and free in weeks.

He’ll take what he can get.


	12. May 1953 - Finished

#  **May 1953 – Finished**

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” is all that can come out of Dean’s mouth.

Cas is silent, which seems to be his default when he’s really getting into a rhythm. As things are now, with Dean lying on his belly and Cas violently plowing him from behind, Cas is rather busy. So Dean doesn’t begrudge him the silence.

Not like he can steer his own thoughts away from the points of contact between them, anyway.

He’s finally able to smell Cas properly, and his brain Is going _nuts_.

“Holy shit, fu-uck,” he sobs when a particularly violent push of hips from Cas manages to find his prostate. “Cas, fuck! Fuck m-me!”

There’s no clever come-back from Cas, only a growl, and Dean feels his teeth lightly graze the soft skin between his shoulder and neck.

He wants it.

Cas’s teeth sinking into him, piercing through his skin drawing blood and tearing the muscles apart. It’s a sudden need, it’s disgusting, but it’s violent and intense and he _wants_.

He has just enough consciousness left to fight the need to grab Cas by the hair and smash his mouth against his shoulder.

They’re already scent-bonded, a bite wouldn’t help them in any way, quite the contrary.

But there’s something else they can do that will satisfy his primal brain. Cas seems to be gone enough to not even register the demand consciously.

This is a bit shifty but Dean needs, and his body won’t take no for an answer.

“Knot me,” he manages between moans and expletives.

At first, he gets no reaction. So he pushes out, louder this time, “Cas, knot me!”

Cas’s rhythm falters.

“Don’t try to hold it, just let go,” Dean urges, pushing against Cas and making him resume his punishing pace, “Please!”

Growling again – something that sounds suspiciously like ‘ _Dean!_ ’ – Cas drops his head against Dean’s shoulder, and goes even harder, if that’s possible.

Dean feels him swell inside him, his insides twisting in anticipation as soon as it starts.

“Oh, fuck! Yes! Fuck!” Dean goes on babbling.

This is exactly what he needed. His own cock trapped underneath him is rubbing against the sheets and that’s all it takes.

With the pressure of Cas’s body on his own, the heat coming in waves from low inside his belly up to his face, Cas’s knot filling him to the point of pain and the scent of Cas floating all around him, he’s finally done for.

His whole body seems to implode as he comes. He’s pretty sure he loses a few seconds to the bliss, because all he can feel for a moment that seems both too long and too short is Cas coming inside him, echoing the electric pulses of ecstasy shooting through his limbs.

He doesn’t know if he makes a noise or if he keeps breathing as it happens. Hell, for all he knows, he could have fainted and not have noticed.

When he comes to, it’s slowly.

He doesn’t open his eyes right away. Instead, he follows his own pulse, from his heart to the tip of his fingers and toes, all along his limbs. His chest rises and falls with long intakes of breath.

He’s at peace, senses turning on one at a time, until he realizes he’s now lying on his side, head on his bicep.

One of Cas’s hand is possessively holding onto his lower belly. They’re still linked together.

When Dean understands the implications of Cas’s gesture, his stomach seems to coil under the sudden tension. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, because things are quiet and despite the small discomfort of guessing that Cas maybe has a breeding fetish, it feels rather nice.

The only thing that prevents him from dozing off and enjoy the moment is the small, growling noise Cas is making, one continuous sound so faint that Dean didn’t hear it until that moment.

But now he does. He hears it more clearly when Cas notices he’s alert, at last, and brings his face closer, mouth right under Dean’s scent gland.

Dean freezes.

It would maybe be a good idea to call Cas’s name, ask him what he thinks he’s doing, and if Dean didn’t know Cas as well as he thinks he does, he would have.

But this is so unlike the poised and restrained Cas to give in to his basic instincts and mark Dean like a mindless animal that it gives Dean pause.

Something’s wrong.

Or, not wrong per say, but a bit side-ways.

It’s as if Cas is stuck in that primal state, and Dean doesn’t know what to do about it. Should he wait a little, see if, as Cas’s knot goes down, Cas will come back to himself? Or should he try to snap him out of it?

Cas doesn’t give him a choice when he suddenly turns his head, mouth right where a bond bite would be placed. Dean feels teeth. He panics.

“NO!”

Cas growls, short and loud, but stops nonetheless, mouth still open around Dean’s flesh.

“Don’t,” Dean repeats. “You need to wake up, now, buddy.”

And, fuck, this is so friggin’ weird and Dean can’t move. “Please wake up,” he breathes.

Oh-so slowly, Cas’s jaws close around him again. Like a puppy testing the bounds of what he can or can’t do.

So Dean tries to push him away, escape his reach. This time Cas’s growl raises all the hairs on Dean’s body.

Cas’s arm is like a vice around his body, teeth still about to sink into Dean’s skin.

Dean feels like one wrong move could send thing in a whole other, very bad direction. So, instead of moving further away, he forces his body to relax against Cas’s.

“Alright. Alright, Cas. I’m right here. Just… no bite, okay? Bad Cas, you understand?”

He’s sure he’s gonna have a nice teeth-shaped bruise when all this is over.

The long, low growl coming from Cas seems to dry out. It takes what feels like a long minute before Cas finally lets go and starts licking the place he was just chewing on.

“Great,” Dean murmurs. “Fucking swell. What the fuck do I do now?”

Cas is too busy grooming Dean to mind him. His tongue is getting closer and closer to Dean’s scent gland behind his ear, and it’s becoming way too intimate for comfort, but Cas is too far gone to know what he’s doing.

Not like it’s an open organ, Dean tells himself. It’s hidden under skin, and nobody will be able to see the evidence of what’s happening now, so it’s fine.

Of course, Dean considers it the most intimate place on his body, one that only his mom, and maybe Sam when he was small and scared, have ever come close to. But Cas has put his tongue in other intimate areas of his bodies, so really, this shouldn’t feel this invasive.

It’s just new. That’s all. It’s fine.

He’s pretty sure if Cas knew what he was doing, he wouldn’t dare come close to it. It’s a given he’s going to apologize profusely when he wakes up.

God, why is this so weird?

And oh! Oh, Jesus Christ, now Cas is licking directly on the spot, sucking on it. Dean stuck between discomfort and arousal, if he’s honest.

“Cas! No!”

But Cas just growls again, gives the scent gland a small, possessive bit – Dean’s traitorous cock jumps at that – and keeps his ministrations.

“Castiel! STOP!” Cas’s tongue pops out again, but this time it’s less assured. “Wake up, goddammit!”

Finally, finally this seems to get through.

It prompts a small hum from Cas, as he keeps licking around Dean’s scent gland, but this time it’s more absent-minded than anything else.

“Cas? Please talk to me. You need to wake up, now. Come on!”

“Hm… Dean. I…” Cas trails off.

He’s stopped licking away at Dean though, which is a good start.

There’s a long moment of silence, before he says, louder, “Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas. Are you back with us?”

Uncomfortable silence answers him.

“Cas?”

“Was I…”

“Uh,” Dean swallows. “Yeah. I’m afraid you were.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Dean, I—”

As expected, yeah. “It’s okay. I knew something was up.”

“Still, this is…”

“I’m not mad at you. It’s fine.”

“I don’t…” Cas sounds properly mortified. “I don’t remember anything after you asked me to…” he clears his throat, then whispers, “knot you.”

And Dean hears him lick his lips.

“Hum, yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. I don’t know if it was the blockers or something else, but when we could finally smell each other, it was like…”

He thinks. He really thinks of a word to describe how he felt at the time, but nothing comes up.

“I know what you mean,” Cas answers, quiet. “This… I don’t know if this is exceptional or not, but I feel like this is a major discovery. I don’t know if it’s due to the scent bond or not, but it might… it’s probably dangerous. Dean, we can’t—”

“Don’t,” Dean interrupts, annoyed.

Here we go again. Cas is gonna back off, and come back in a few months, and in the meantime Dean is the one who’ll suffer through painful heats while Cas nurses his guilt.

He won’t have that.

“I almost bit you,” Cas argues.

“But you didn’t,” Dean barks, twisting his head around, “so it’s fine. We can look for bonded couples and try to recreate the conditions. Study the phenomenon, like scientists, not back off at the first signs of danger!”

Cas eyes him from head to toe, considering him. “I don’t understand where all this anger is coming from.”

Dean scoffs, “Yeah, you wouldn’t.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

And, yeah, the way he insists, the confused frown on his brow finishes to piss Dean off.

Obviously, everything was going too well. Cas had to go and remind Dean of how much of an ass he is. Why wouldn’t he, now that he’s had what he wanted?

“What’s wrong is you always do this,” Dean bursts, and it’s lucky he can’t move in the position they’re in or he would have thrown his arms in the air. “You pull me in, until I agree to do whatever it is you want me to do, and when it’s done you feel guilty so you pull back. And I end up taking the brunt of it!”

Only once he’s done does he notices the kink in his neck from trying to look Cas in the eye, so he turns his back on him.

Cas takes the hint and he slowly takes his arm away from Dean’s belly.

Dean’s starting to get cold. 

“I was just being cautious, Dean,” Cas says like Dean’s the unreasonable one. “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this while your hormones levels are still high.”

Dean lets out an incredulous scoff at that.

Heat seems to suddenly shoot up to his face, a ball of bitter anger preventing him from answering anything.

He knows he’d start crying if he tried to open his mouth. If they weren’t tied together still, he would’ve left already.

But here they are, stuck together by their genitals, in the most intimate way possible. Dean can’t believe how quick they were to argue once the long awaited orgasm was out of their system. 

“Dean…”

“Alright, end of discussion,” Dean spits.

Cas sighs, which doesn’t help Dean to cool off.

“You’re right, I have a tendency to pull back when things don’t go the way I planned but… the least I can ask of you, I think, is a bit of consideration. I did just lose what feels like half-an-hour of my time that I’ll never get back. I have a right to be a little bit… spooked.”

An involuntary laugh leaves Dean’s mouth at that, and suddenly it’s way harder to be angry.

Cas has a point, and Dean feels a bit bad for not even thinking about how it could’ve felt like for Cas, this whole ‘going feral’ thing.

Shit. He’s the ass this time.

“Right,” Dean lets out begrudgingly. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Dean only hums in answer, feeling a bit sheepish. He needed to get all that out, so he’s not about to apologize for speaking out, but still.

Maybe Cas is right. Maybe he shouldn’t speak about things that are important to him post-coital. He’s a scientist too, after all. He knows Cas doesn’t blurt bullshit about hormones just for the sake of pissing Dean off. There’s a truthful, scientific basis to everything Cas says, especially when he uses his serious tone.

Dean sighs, “Can we nap for a bit before we leave?”

“I have a better idea,” Cas whispers in his ear while his arm wraps around Dean’s middle.

And despite everything, a shiver runs up Dean’s spine.

“This would have to be a very good idea for me to give up my nap.”

“How about I treat you to some room service? I hear the Chef here was trained in France.”

Dean’s stomach growls at that. The tension from the small fight is still palpable, but Cas is making an effort. So Dean goes along.

“You think they taught him how to make a nice American burger?”

Cas huffs a laugh, “Let’s ask.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Once again, things get weird once they’re back to their normal dynamic.

But Dean is getting used to it, and so he ignores the awkwardness, pushes against his embarrassment, and does what he does best: sort through the mess that is Cas’s mind, and translates his thoughts as best as he can for their hypothetical future readership.

Or, in this case, their potential participants.

“Did you get everything?” Cas asks once he’s finished his dictation.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, looking down on his notes, “but if we’re going to make a flyer. We’re gonna have to cut some of this out.”

Of course, Cas is taken aback by that. “Well, we can have a short version for the flyer, and publish another version in the local newspapers.”

“No newspaper is going to publish this…”

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

This is met with stern silence from Cas. He’s unhappy about it, as much as Dean is, but he’s also very stubborn when it comes to his projects.

Which is why he opens his mouth to speak again. “Remove any mention of sex then. Make it palatable.”

Dean sighs, “Cas, I understand this is important, but… new volunteers means more money to scrap out to pay them. We’re almost out of whatever funds we had left, and the clinic is not turning a profit because, once again, we don’t have enough money to pay for equipment.

“I don’t know how to say this more gently than I’ve been doing the past couple days. We can’t afford to start on the Scent Study. I’m sorry Cas—”

“I’ll pay,” Cas interrupts, waving Dean off and turning away. “We can’t afford to stop now. This is too important.”

With that, he stomps to his office. Dean watches him go, and a stupid thought suddenly occurs to him.

He could get up, make Cas a cup of joe and go hug him. Reassure him that everything’s going to be okay.

 _Right_ , he snorts to himself.

It’s not the first time he gets the urge to touch Cas outside of their participation in the Study, but this one is too domestic for comfort.

Cas stops at his desk, and looks up.

“Shouldn’t you be working on our advert?” he barks.

Dean raises his hands in the air in mock innocence.

If Cas wants to spend his personal money on the Study, it’s his prerogative. Dean won’t stop him, especially if it means entering a new phase, because Dean is starting to get bored of doing the same thing over and over again.

Dean just wishes Cas would be as generous with him, because as of now, outside of the hospital, he’s working for free.

Well, hopefully it’s worth it. If the Scent Study gives interesting results, then they’d have enough data to publish it. The initial study, _and_ the Scent addition. And publishing means spreading the word. Spreading the word means… hopefully it means reaching enough crazy rich people to get another donation.

So, yes, totally worth it.

Or at least he hopes so.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The good thing about the course of the Study coming to a road block is that Cas has generously agreed to give Dean his weekend off. Dean hasn’t had a free Saturday in a while, so he’s rather excited when he wakes up that morning, with no alarm, and the feeling of finally having slept properly.

He shuffles out of his room, wrapped up in the fluffy, grey bathrobe he stole from the hotel room they stayed at with Cas. He’s warm, he’s rested, and he’s about to make some pancakes, and the only thing that comes to mind is that everything’s too perfect to last.

Something’s bound to happen.

He won’t let the thought linger for too long, though. Sam is already sitting on the sofa, in front of the TV with a glass of orange juice in his hands, focused on whatever program he’s watching.

“Good morning,” Dean exhales as he stretches his arms, “how ‘bout some pancakes?”

Sam slowly turns his head to look at him, blinking as if he’s surprised.

“What?” Dean asks. “I have something on my face?”

Sam shakes his head. “Sorry, I forgot you weren’t going to be at work today. Uh, yeah, pancakes sounds great.”

“Okay, great.”

Dean’s a bit bothered by Sam’s tone, though. It’s almost as if he’s disappointed to see Dean here.

But Sam is a teenager, he’s bound to be moody about anything and everything. Dean’s learning to not take anything personally.

“So what are you doing today? Any plans?”

“The usual,” Sam mumbles with a sigh.

Okay. Really not in the mood, then. Doesn’t stop Dean from pushing. Sue him, he misses his brother, and the easy conversations they used to have.

When did they stop being so close to each other?

“The usual?” he tries to coax.

Sam sighs again. “Nothing much. Breakfast, then homework, then I go out with Max and Payton and we just… walk around. Relax. The usual.”

Max and Payton? Who the hell are Max and Payton?

“Alright. Sounds fun. You wanna come home early before dinner and we can go out? Maybe catch a movie?”

He doesn’t want to appear too eager, so he busies himself prepping his ingredients while he speaks.

“Can’t,” Sam answers. His eyes are still glued to the TV. “Saturday night is game night. We go to the arcade with my friends.”

“Come on,” Dean gives up on his search for flour, “we never see each other. Can’t you skip it, just this once?”

“Not my fault you’d rather spend time with Castiel than with me.”

It’s Dean’s turn to sigh, “Don’t be like that. You know I don’t—”

The phone starts ringing, interrupting him. Rude.

Sam eyes him, and shrugs, “Nobody ever calls me that early. Maybe Castiel changed his mind and wants you to go back to work.”

Dean just huffs and picks up the phone, “Yeah?” he barks into the receiver.

“ _Bit grumpy on this fine morning, Brother?_ ”

Benny? What the fuck?

“Uh. Sorry,” Dean tries, a bit calmer. “I thought you were some diet pill seller. What… to what do I owe the pleasure? You never call me in the morning.”

Right. Good job, Dean. That wasn’t bitter at all.

But of course, Benny isn’t bothered by Dean’s tone. He laughs, “ _Well, I’m shaking things up a little. How are you?_ ”

Dean can see on Sam’s face, on the way his lips tug into a smug smile, that he recognized Benny’s voice through the phone.

“I’m good, man. How are you? You’re still in town?”

“ _Yep. I said I’d stay, didn’t I? Wouldn’t want to mess up that study of yours._ ”

Dean huffs a small, fake laugh at that, but he’s more confused than anything.

“ _Hum, listen, Brother_ ,” Benny goes on. “ _I know this isn’t our usual, but there’s something I wanna tell you. Could you join me for lunch?_ ”

Maybe Dean’s still asleep. Maybe he’s dreaming.

“Oh,” he lets out, eyeing Sam again. “I, huh, I guess I could. Where?”

Sam huffs at that. Dean scowls at him.

“ _The little diner next to your place, the one with the killer pecan pies?_ ”

“Mandy’s? Sure.”

“ _Alright_ ,” Benny says, and he sounds relieved somehow. “ _Meet me there at noon, yeah?_ ”

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“ _Right. See ya Dean!_ ”

Dean doesn’t really realize how weird this all is until he finally hangs up, and sees Sam staring at him with an air of superior wariness.

“I guess you won’t be here tonight, then,” Sam says.

“I said I wanted us to get dinner together, didn’t I?” Dean answers. This time he can’t hold back the slight anger tinting his words. “Benny wants to have lunch with me. I’m still free tonight.”

Sam gives him his best unconcerned look, “Yeah, well, I’m not.”

And, right. It’s too early for Dean to get angry. He knew it, anyway. He knew that things were going to go to shit. He just knew it. He should be glad the only ‘shit’ he’s having to deal with is Sam’s bad mood.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’m not gonna fight with you. Do whatever you like. Just…” He doesn’t want to go all sentimental on Sam, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. There’s just so many months left until the new school year starts. “Man, I just want to spend some time with you before you leave.”

It’s a small victory to see the guilty frown on Sam’s face before Dean turns away and makes his way to the bathroom.

If he’s going to see Benny, he has to get ready. And letting Sam stew in his own juices for now seems like the right thing to do.

Dean will worry about his brother later.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So,” Dean says as him and Benny are sitting in a booth at Mandy’s, waiting for their order. “Going out during the day. Kinda weird, if I’m honest.”

“I know,” Benny nods, running a hand through his beard with a small smile, “but I thought we could catch up before getting to the serious part of the talk.”

Dean doesn’t like where this is going. At all. First, the situation is strange, so far off what they usually get to when they meet that Dean can’t help feeling utterly uncomfortable. And second, well… this whole thing, going out for lunch together, catching up, having a real talk? Dean has an idea of where this could be going, and he has no idea how to react when it comes.

So, yeah. Catching up sounds like a great idea for now. This is not a date until someone says it is. And Dean definitely won’t say it.

“Alright, well… there’s nothing much I could say,” Dean starts, searching his brain for things to talk about. “Uh, still working hard on the Study, so I don’t have a lot of free time to do anything else… Oh! Sam went to visit his future campus. He loves it, obviously… And, hum. Yeah. Hum, what else…”

“I’m dating Andrea,” Benny blurts.

For a second, it’s like time stopped in the small diner. Granted, there’s not that many people at this hour, but to Dean, it feels like all the activity stuttered to a stop.

He doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Sorry,” Benny breaks the stunned silence. “Andrea didn’t want us to be official until we were sure it was gonna work outside the lab, but I’ve waited so long, I just couldn’t hold it anymore.”

“No, yeah,” Dean manages, trying for a smile. “I get it. Uh, congratulations, I guess?”

Now they’re both uncomfortable, so at least Dean doesn’t feel alone in this.

“You know I’ll have to tell the Doc, right?” Dean says.

Because he doesn’t want Benny to say what’s bound to come out of his mouth, and he doesn’t want to delve into how that makes him feel.

Fuck, he’s so fucking stupid!

He knows Benny doesn’t want to settle down. Or at least he thought he didn’t, not with Dean anyway.

Dean should have known that this invitation to lunch wasn’t going to result in anything positive. Having Benny as a fuck buddy was supposed to be a guarantee, there was no question he’d always be there.

But apparently not. All good things must come to an end, right? And now Dean’s getting dumped.

“I figured,” Benny sighs, “but I wanted you to hear it first.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“So that means we can’t see each other anymore.”

“Yeah I got that.”

Gosh, Dean can’t look him in the eye.

“I know it musta’ been strange for you, knowing that I was here and I wasn’t calling you but… Andrea asked me out after the first session, she actually waited for me after it, and, well…”

Benny smiles to himself, and something inside Dean seems to twist unpleasantly, “She’s one hell of a woman.”

Dean just nods, slowly. He doesn’t know what to say. There’s a lot going through his mind, but nothing that would be good to express.

He can’t stop the wave of sadness, of betrayal even, that crashes through him.

It’s not like they were dating. It’s not even that he thought he was someone special to Benny. It’s just that… that Benny settled for someone who isn’t Dean, even if Dean wouldn’t have been interested in settling down with him, anyway.

Benny was… not his only friend, because there’s Ash, and there’s Charlie, but he barely sees them anymore. Benny had become the only person he’d spend a significant amount of time with.

And now, there’s no one left. No one besides Cas, but Cas is different. He’s Dean’s boss. They’re not friends. He can’t say that to Benny. Half of it doesn’t make any sense, anyway, so he can’t expect him to understand.

“Well,” he finally breathes out, “I’m happy for you, if you’re happy. Won’t say I’m not disappointed but… it’s nice for you two.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be hard to only warm one bed,” Benny laughs, “but I think she’s worth it.”

They’re interrupted by the waitress bringing their burgers. She doesn’t seem to notice the awkwardness between them. Or maybe she does, and she’s used to ignoring it.

Dean can’t help but getting a slight whiff of her when she bends over, chirping enthusiastically, “One Mississipi Burger, extra onions, extra cheese, one Cheese Burger extra bacon. Your milkshakes are coming shortly!” as she jiggles her breasts in Benny’s direction.

To his credit, he doesn’t look at them, which he usually would’ve done, since she’s cute, she’s young, and, more importantly, she’s only wearing a half-blocker, from what Dean can tell – probably to entice the clientele and get more tips – and everything in her scent screams ‘Ripe Omega’.

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” Benny flashes his brightest smile at her, and she turns around, satisfied.

Dean shakes his head, half-amused, half-impressed. “You’re actually, really committed to Andrea, aren’t you?”

“Why? Because I didn’t look at a nice pair of knockers? Who do you take me for?”

There’s not bite to his tone, because he knows as well as Dean what kind of Alpha he is. Dean finds himself smiling despite the gloominess in his heart. “I’m more fascinated by the fact that you didn’t even think of slapping her ass.”

Benny laughs again, a full-bellied laugh this time, and they settle into a comfortable silence as they dig into their lunch.

“Listen, Dean,” Benny says after biting down on his burger, “I know this was unexpected, and I guess I just wanted to say, I’m glad you’re taking this so well. I really like spending time with you, so… you know we can still hang around each other.”

It takes a lot out of Dean to keep the smile plastered on his face. The sudden joy from the banter and the good meal has all but evaporated, because he knows, and Benny probably knows as well, that none of that is true.

Yes, they could still see each other. Of course they could. Doesn’t mean they should. Doesn’t mean they will.

They can’t be friends, because their friendship started with sex, and it’s going to end with the absence of it.

They don’t know each other, not really, don’t have much in common. Hell, Dean doesn’t even know his last name. All he knows is he likes junk food and good beer and to raw Dean like there’s no tomorrow.

Or he did anyway.

Dean saw how Benny was with Andrea in bed. He doesn’t think he would be as violent with her.

But of course, he’s not about to tell Benny all of that. He’s going to pretend this isn’t the last time they see each other, outside the lab anyway. Pretend like this doesn’t feel like a part of him is dying in front of his eyes.

“Of course,” he huffs a small laugh. “Doesn’t change anything. Besides the fact that we won’t fool around anymore.”

This satisfies Benny, so Dean counts it as a win.

They eat their meal then, and Dean tries to avoid looking at the clock behind the counter too many times. He wants this moment to be over, wants to go home and… what? Maybe call Charlie. Tell her about it. Anything but this parody of a lunch they’re having now.

The food is great, but the conversation is strenuous, at best. And Dean is running out of things to blab about. There’s one thing he wants to know, though, but he waits for a while, until it becomes easier to smile and joke around. Until Benny looks like his usual relaxed self, and not the nervous Alpha Dean’s had in front of him for half of the meal, just in case this is a sensitive topic.

“I’m wondering something,” he finally says between sips of his chocolate milkshake, “and feel free to not answer if it’s inappropriate.”

Benny gives him a curious, apprehensive look, so Dean quickly goes on.

“Why Roy Olson?”

Benny barks a laugh at that, relief clear on his face. “I thought you were going to ask me about Andrea or something.”

 _Don’t be bitter, Dean_ , he has to tell himself. “Nah. I, huh, know just about enough about you two, thanks.”

“You’re right,” Benny smiles.

“So. Roy?”

Benny raises his hands in the air in a ‘what can I say’ kind of gesture. “That’s my name. My real, legal name, I mean,” he adds when Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. “But this wasn’t… sexy enough as a stage-name. My middle name is Benjamin, my mother’s maiden name is Lafitte, so… Benny Lafitte. Sounded better. I can’t believe I never told you that!”

Dean can’t believe he didn’t even know Benny’s fake last name.

“Okay,” he says. “I guess you’re right. It does sound better. And I’m glad you didn’t use a fake in the Study just to mess with me.”

“Nah, I would never. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d participate in the research. I thought you were just the secretary.”

“Well,” Dean shrugs, “I am. But the Doc needed an omega’s perspective on things.”

“Makes sense.”

And then something occurs to Dean. “Wait. How did you know I was involved in it?”

Benny’s smile turns a bit sheepish at that, “I saw the flyers the last time I was at yours. You had a few of them and there was your boss’s name on them so it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. I didn’t mean to surprise you, I swear. I just thought it’d be a good way to make a quick buck. You know I’m always broke.”

And yeah, Dean knows. Well, that mystery wasn’t as interesting as Dean thought it would be.

This is a nice way to end things, in a way. Now Dean knows all he needs to know about Benny. He won’t have any questions left hanging. He guesses it will be easier to get over him that way.

The lunch ends not long after that. There’s nothing left to idly chat about. So they say their goodbyes, Benny promises he’ll call and that they’ll get together sometime soon, and they go their separate way.

Dean goes home, and Sam is gone.

He feels empty.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean won’t lie, he falls into a funk for a couple of days, but he does his best to not let it show in front of Cas.

He doesn’t want to answer questions just yet, so he keeps Benny’s relationship status to himself. Besides, he has other problems. One big problem, rather: Sam.

Dean’s brother is closing off, and Dean doesn’t know what to do about it anymore. He just doesn’t understand what’s happening in Sam’s head.

So he asks Cas for a night off in order to catch Sam at home and figure it out once and for all.

“What are you doing here?” Is the first thing Sam asks when Dean crosses the threshold of their apartment.

“I still live here, don’t I?” Dean answers as he closes the door behind himself. “Unless you’re kicking me out, Mister Alpha.”

Sam huffs, looking back down at his homework again. The little kitchen table is full of books scattered around, and Dean wonders how he can still have so much to study so close to the end of the school year.

“You’re home early,” Sam says.

It almost sounds like a complaint.

“I asked for a night off so we could have a talk.”

“A talk? About what?”

Dean removes his vest, dumping it on the back of a chair, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “About why you’re suddenly being a pissy teenager when you know we don’t have a lot of time left together.”

Here comes the annoyed sigh. Dean ignores it and strolls to the bedroom, peeling off his shirt and tosses it on his bed.

God, just imagining how it will feel to take off his dress pants has him exhale in relief.

He changes quickly into his night attire – sweat pants and an old, black undershirt – before coming back to the living room.

“We are going to talk about it, you know,” he tells Sam as he goes to rummage through the pantry.

He doesn’t know what he’s gonna make for dinner and he’s so intent on getting Sam to talk that he can barely concentrate on what’s in front of his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Bummer. Cause I do,” Dean answers, grabbing the last can of salted pork and a can of peas.

Should do the trick for tonight. He’ll cook on the weekend, he promises himself. He hasn’t cooked properly in a while.

“I’m working, Dean. We can talk this weekend.”

“You’re never here on the weekend,” Dean lets out. He stands up, slamming the cans on the counter and turns around. “So how am I supposed to spend time with you, huh? What have I done to you that’s so horrible that you won’t even stay in the same room as me for more than ten minutes?”

He shouldn’t be this angry, he shouldn’t lash out on Sam because he got dumped like a used pair of socks and can’t handle it like a proper adult. But he can’t help it. Sam’s attitude has been so bad these last couple months that Dean feels like he’s failed, somewhere, somehow, in raising Sam.

He took a wrong turn at some point and he can’t understand when, or how to fix it. He’s lost and confused and his life seems more and more useless as days go by.

He doesn’t have Benny anymore. He at least wants his brother’s back.

“I don’t know,” Sam bursts as he looks up at Dean, “you think maybe I’m a little mad that you abandoned me? Left me at home alone every day and every night and every Saturday? Or maybe I’m just angry that you’re so all over Castiel that you forgot I even existed?”

“That’s not fair, Sammy, you know I bust my ass for you. So you can have a chance at a nice job and a nice home! Don’t put that against me!”

“Right, you’re fucking your boss for me, is that it?”

Dean’s slightly taken aback by the accusation, heart skipping a beat as he stammers, “I—I—I don’t—”

But he waited just a second too long to protest.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Dean!” Sam yells. “I can smell him on you, okay? You think I don’t notice when it’s all over you and gets worse when you take off your shirt? You think I’m stupid?”

The silence that follows is deafening. Dean can do nothing but gape, heart beating inside his throat and blood pulsing in his ears.

This is it. This is the worst moment of his life, the moment he dreaded above all else and didn’t even know he did.

What can he say to that? He can’t keep lying to Sam. Not blatantly. Not when it’s clear Sam knows everything.

“It only happened a handful of time,” Dean barely manages. His heart is hammering so hard against his ribcage that it’s starting to hurt. His eyes won’t leave Sam, even though he wants to look away. “F—For the Study. We decided to participate. So we wouldn’t transfer on the volunteers.”

“Right,” Sam snorts. “Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”

“We’re not… it’s complicated, Sam, okay?”

“He’s married, _Dean_! There’s nothing more simple than that! He’s married and you’re friends with his wife!”

The guilt is easy to ignore, usually. It’s there, always present, but when the words he manages to mute inside himself most of the time are coming out of Sam’s mouth, it’s like he’s drowning in it.

It overcomes him, chokes him, until his eyes are filled with tears and his head is spinning with it.

“So, yeah,” Sam concludes. “Good talk.”

He stands up, gathering his books, clearly intending on finishing his homework in the bedroom.

“Wait,” Dean pushes out. “Sammy. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I work so much, and I’m sorry I left you alone all this time. But this has nothing to do with Cas and I, okay? You have to believe me. It didn’t started because of Cas. I really—”

“Stop calling him that!” Sam’s red in the face, but he stopped to listen. Now he’s angry again. “He’s not your—your boyfriend! He’s not even your friend! Stop calling him that stupid nickname!”

Shit. What does Dean do? What does he say? He’s never seen Sam like this.

“Alright,” he tries to pacify Sam. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. About him, okay?”

Sam straightens up, defiant, “Maybe I want to talk about him.”

And this is another turn that finishes to confuse Dean. “O—Why?”

“Because I don’t recognize you, Dean! I don’t wanna spend time with you because you’re just—you’re just so…”

“So what?”

Sam hesitates, but his anger is stronger than anything that might hold him back, “You’re boring, okay? You’re an old, boring… omega! All you can talk about is the Study and _Cas_ and how hard you’re working, and you don’t even give a shit about my life!”

“That’s not true,” Dean says, crossing his arms above his chest, “and that’s enough swearing for tonight, alright?”

“Fuck you!”

“Enough!”

And they stand there, six feet apart, Sam going redder and redder as the seconds tick away, and Dean wondering how to handle this because this is so far above his paygrade that he feels like a child again.

He’s not ready for this. Nothing prepared him for this situation. He just wants to run in their room and hide in his bed and maybe cry for a bit because this is all too much.

He just needs… he needs someone to tell him what to do. What to say.

“Tell me what would make this better,” he blurts. “Because I honestly don’t know and I don’t want you to leave if you’re still angry with me.”

Sam is surprised by this, so much so that his anger abates a little. “I think you’ve done enough,” he lets out, calmer after a moment of hesitation.

“I’ll tell the Doc I won’t participate anymore. I’ll just do the research and that’s it. I can ask to come home an hour early.”

“It’s too late, Dean,” Sam sighs.

He starts gathering his things again. This time, Dean sees the anger slowly seep out of him, only to be replaced by… what? Uneasiness? Guilt?

“No, it’s not,” Dean insists. “Listen, I know I fucked up. I know I keep fucking up. But we’re family. We can always find a way to fix things, alright?”

“Yeah, well, I’m mad about Castiel,” Sam sighs, avoiding Dean’s eyes. “And I don’t think I can stop being mad just like that.”

“You need time, I get it,” Dean agrees.

The situation doesn’t seem so dire anymore. The tension slowly leaves Dean’s shoulders as he realizes he’s got this. He’s got a grip on this.

“I won’t insist. I promise. Just… when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“No you won’t,” Sam mumbles.

“What’s that?”

“You won’t be there. Or I won’t be anymore. Either way, I’ll figure it out by myself. I’m used to it by now.”

Dean’s getting tired. He knew it. This talking thing everybody’s raving about just sucks. He’s over it. “Sam, come on. You can’t know how you’ll feel two months from now.”

“Just drop it, okay? I just want to finish my homework.”

He’s turning away again, and as much as Dean wants this whole charade to be over, it feels like he can see a crack in Sam’s façade. He can’t just let him go and hide like this.

“Just… if something’s on your mind, say it. S’not like you can throw anything worse at me, anyway.”

“Drop it!”

“You’re clearly still bothered. Just yell at me, come on!”

“No!”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you, alright?”

Dean blinks at him. “What?” He huffs a small laugh. “Cause you think you haven’t so far?”

“Well, I don’t want to make it worse…” Sam whispers, looking down at his feet. “Please, leave it alone. We can do this another day.”

“No, no,” Dean pushes, suddenly frantic. “You can’t just say that and let me marinate. Get it out.”

“Dean…”

“Tell me!”

“I’m leaving after graduation. There, you’re happy?”

And now Dean’s confused again, and a bit pissed. “Like Hell you are. We said you were gonna work this summer. I already told Cas and HR about it. You can’t just up and leave when I went through all this trouble to get you an interview!”

“I found a job. I told you I didn’t need your help.”

Fuck, he’s so tired. “And what is this awesome job that you can’t do here?”

Sam shakes his head, and he looks as exhausted as Dean feels. “It’s not that it’s exceptional. It’s just bagging groceries for now, but they offered me a part-time job that I could keep through the whole school year. And I know what you’re going to say, but it’d be on the weekends. Saturdays and Sunday mornings. So I’d have time to study during the week.

“But if I want the position I need to start as soon as I’m done here. Or else they’ll get someone else.” He sighs, shrugs. “It’s a great opportunity and a lot of students go after these types of job, especially since this one’s close to campus. I had to give them an answer right away, so I said yes.”

It takes Dean a little while to digest everything. It makes a lot of sense, and Dean hates that it does.

And when he understands that there’s nothing he can do about it, that Sam’s graduation is less than two weeks away, his world suddenly narrows to this single second, to the space he’s rooted to in this moment, as if the walls of his apartment are closing in on him. As if the entire world is closing in on him.

To his complete surprise, he chokes on a sob as he tries to speak.

Shit, he can’t do this. He can’t cry in front of Sam, but he can’t run either. He’s stuck between the weight of his responsibilities and the childish need to keep his family together so he won’t end up alone.

But he can’t, can he? First there was Mom, that one he didn’t see coming, but her death marked the beginning of the end. Then there was Dad. This one Dean spotted from a mile away. God only knows what he’s up to these days, if he’s not lying dead in a ditch, and ain’t that a gruesome thought?

And now Sam. The little voice in his head telling him that everyone always leaves him is rearing its head once again. He doesn’t want to listen. Hasn’t listened to it in a good number of years, but tonight he can’t stop listening.

And believing.

“Dean?” Sam asks.

He sounds terrified.

Well, he said he didn’t want to upset Dean. That was about right.

“And you were gonna tell me that when? If I didn’t push tonight, you’d have waited until you were on the plane? You were going to leave me a note and sneak into the night?”

“I don’t know, okay? Hadn’t really thought about it…”

Dean snorts, an ugly sound that somehow resembles a laugh even though all he wants to do is bawl his eyes out. “Right. Great. Well, what do you want me to say? It’s done, right? It’s fucking great.”

He searches for something, anything that will give him an idea of what to do. Nothing helps. All he can see is how small the apartment is.

“See… that’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” Sam says.

Dean’s way past trying to understand what Sam feels. He needs to escape this place. Now.

“Yeah, it’d have been better if I had my breakdown once you’re gone, huh? I get that,” he spits as he stomps to his room.

There’s a pair of blue jeans on the floor, he grabs it, makes a quick work of changing pants. Dad’s old leather jacket is hanging on the back of a chair next to his bed. He puts it on.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks. There’s some urgency to his voice, but Dean barely registers it. He’s suffocating. He needs to get out. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“You were right, we don’t need to talk.”

“Dean!”

But he’s already at the door, Sam’s form blurring from the tears of panic gathering in his eyes.

“Don’t wait for me,” he manages.

His voice wavers, but he doesn’t try to hide it. He can’t, really. He can’t think anymore. He needs air and whiskey and a fuzzy head.

He doesn’t hear the door slam behind him, maybe he didn’t close it. He doesn’t realize he’s been driving, doesn’t see the road, until he reaches the farthest bar he could find. He doesn’t know where he is.

All he knows is one second he’s drowning and the next he’s sitting amongst strangers with a glass in his hands.

He drinks until he can’t think anymore.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean drags his feet up the building to the last floor, and somehow, even though he should be anxious, even though his heart should be in his throat by now, he can’t find it in himself to care.

He’s probably gonna get fired. Cas said he wouldn’t tolerate lateness, and Dean just missed the whole day of work.

He didn’t want to come to the clinic, but he figured the least he could do out of respect for Cas is to come and allow him to fire Dean in person.

When he pushes the door open, Cas looks up sharply from where he’s sitting at his desk. He looks mighty pissed, pushing up and stomping purposely towards Dean.

“Where the Hell have you been?”

“Uh. I have no idea. An hour away from here, give or take.”

“And you couldn’t call?!”

Now Cas is in his face, scolding him from up close, towering over him like Dad used to do. Dean can even smell a bit of Alpha anger in there, like the blockers aren’t enough to hold all of his fury.

It’s only instinct that has Dean cowering on himself.

“I needed some time.”

He expects Cas to yell louder, tell him how royally he fucked up, that he’s fired and he never wants to see him again.

But he does none of that.

He sighs, and take Dean by the wrist instead, pulling him into his office and sitting his ass down in the seat facing him.

He doesn’t talk, just rounds his desk, drop into his seat and pushes the phone towards Dean. “Call Sam.”

Dean shakes his head because he realizes what he’s doing. “I can’t.”

“He’s worried. Tell him you’re fine.”

“Don’t make me,” Dean says, suddenly hoarse. He hates that he can feel the tears coming, and that Cas can probably see them, “I can’t.”

This has Cas pause, and Dean thinks he’s gonna be okay for just a second there. But Cas stares and stares and he seems to see a lot more than Dean’s comfortable with.

All of a sudden he’s picking up the phone’s receiver and dialing.

He keeps the phone to his ear. Dean waits, the anxiety that’s been blissfully absent all day coming all at once, taking all his strengths away in a wave of panic.

“Sam?” Cas says, and Dean’s heart stops. “No, everything’s fine. Dean’s here.”

Dean can hear Sam’s voice through the phone. He can’t talk to him, he can’t. He wants to leave but he’s rooted to the spot.

“I don’t think this is wise,” Cas goes on. “He—No, listen to me. Judging by the state he was in he had been drinking, like you suggested.” Cas eyes Dean at that, a slight reproach in his tone. “I sent him to sleep it off for a little while. Yes. I’ll drive him home, don’t worry… Alright, but you can tell him very soon. Good night, Sam.”

Dean finally breathes again once Cas hangs up.

“Sam is glad you’re okay,” Cas tells him. “He was worried.”

Dean lets out a huff. “And he called you?”

“No, I called your house when I got to the hospital and you weren’t there yet. Sam was just about to leave but seeing as you hadn’t come home all night I promised I’d call him when he came back from school. So I did and you were still nowhere to be seen.”

He didn’t even think about that. When he woke up at noon, his heart skipped a bit when he realized he was late for work, but he didn’t think people would worry.

Or maybe Sam isn’t, not really, just pissed.

“So he told you what happened, then,” he asks Cas.

“No, actually. He wouldn’t, even when I insisted.”

Okay. Dean can work with that.

Shit, he’s got a really faint but really annoying headache pulsing behind his eyelids, and all he wants to do is sleep.

But he’s feeling a little more like himself as time passes, which means the panic and confusion are setting again inside him, slowly but surely.

“Talk to me,” Cas breaks the silence.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not, Dean. And if you’re so bad that you ended up skipping work and forgetting that you had a child to take care of at home, then you need to sort things out.”

He’s so tired. He’s so tired and he doesn’t want to go home but he doesn’t want to be here either.

Fuck, he doesn’t know what to do.

“He’s not a child,” he mumbles.

“He is. He may legally be an adult but that doesn’t mean you can give up on him. It doesn’t seem like you. And if this is you, then I’m disappointed, Dean.”

This stings in a way that Dean couldn’t have anticipated.

And Dean cannot do this right now. “Can we get this over with? Just fire me already so I can go home.”

“I’m not going to fire you. You’re clearly distressed, this would be very insensitive of me,” Cas sighs, leaning back in his seat. The leather creaks. “Besides, you’ve been with me for a year, you pioneered the research with me, you’re effectively irreplaceable at that point.”

He tries for a smile, but all Dean hears in this speech is the fact that Cas can’t get rid of him now.

 _Stop the bullshit, you know it’s not true_ , he forces himself to think.

He’s pushing himself into a hole at this point. He needs to get a grip.

“So,” Cas concludes. “Are you going to tell me what happened that was so bad that you had to go out in the middle of the night to get drunk?”

Dean is suddenly reminded of his high-school years before he dropped out, and all the hours he spent in several principals’ offices.

He sighs. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do, please.”

Can he talk about it, really? He doesn’t feel like he can get out everything that’s happening inside him, to anyone.

He’s not close enough to Charlie or Ash, and Benny—Shit. Yeah, Benny’s not in the picture anymore, he almost forgot.

“Alright,” he says, sheepish. He can’t look at Cas when he says it. “Sam told me he was leaving after graduation. I wasn’t expecting it to come so soon.”

“Did he say why?”

“Found a job that he could keep for the rest of the year. But he’d have to start now.”

Cas hums, crossing his fingers under his chin. “Surely that’s not the only reason you decided to run away on a week day and forgot to come to work.” He raises an eyebrow.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

He can’t talk about it. The words are stuck in his throat, and the memory of the horror he felt the night before, the panic, is all too real still.

He’s scared it will come back any second if he says anything out loud.

So instead of attempting to string his words together, he bends over, elbows on the desk and head between his hands.

“It’s not important,” he mumbles. “I fucked up somewhere and only realized it yesterday, and Sam leaving was the last straw.”

“Clearly if it puts you in that state, it _is_ important. You need to get this out of your head. If you don’t want to talk about it with me then I could maybe refer you to someone in Psych—”

“No!!”

Dean straightens up, distressed. Cas will want to know why he doesn’t want to see anyone in Psych. He can’t out their participation in the Study. So might as well get it out now and be done with this.

Cas waits, just observing. He seems to understand that Dean’s working himself up to speak.

“Sam knows,” Dean lets out. “About us. The Study. He figured it out ‘cause he smelled you on me. That’s why he’s leaving. Cause he says I abandoned him for you.”

There. It’s out.

He’s not about to elaborate, tell Cas that since Dad abandoned them so easily, his biggest fear is doing the same thing.

The night before struck hard because he finally realized it was too late. He’s exactly like John. And it all sneaked up on him. It happened and he didn’t even see it because he was so wrapped up in his own little world.

Cas is silent, blessedly, for a long time. Nothing shows on his face, apart from the intensity that always seep out of his every pore when he’s thinking real hard about something.

“You explained to him that it was only about the Study, not—”

“You’re the only one who see it that way,” Dean bursts. “All Sam sees is he likes Amelia and now he thinks I’m a home-wrecker!”

Cas seems to think better than trying to argue. He wants to, that much is clear. Maybe he really believes it. Maybe he just wouldn’t stand the guilt of admitting he’s cheating.

“I understand that he would feel that way,” Cas answer carefully. “But I could talk to him, if you want. Explain my point of view.”

“There’s no use, he’s leaving. And that’s it.”

“But at least he wouldn’t be as angry anymore,” Cas offers.

Blowing out a breath, Dean runs his hands on his face, up through his hair. “I don’t know. I just—I don’t know what to do. If—When Sam leaves, I’ll have no one.”

“Well, you have friends…”

Dean scoffs. “What? Ash and Charlie? I haven’t touched base with them in months. That’s how great of a friend I am.”

“Benny then,” Cas suggests as he tilts his head on the side.

Dean can’t help it, he lets out a bitter laugh. “Right.”

“I know you’re not that close, but he’s been here for a couple of months, now. You could maybe get closer—”

“He’s dating Andrea. Andrea Kormos, his lab partner.”

The expression on Cas’s face as he takes in the information would be comical if Dean didn’t feel like shit.

He’s clearly upset that Dean knows and didn’t tell him right away, but he’s also trying to be compassionate.

“I know I should have told you as soon as I found out, but I needed to… get used to it first.”

“Understandable.”

And with that, there’s nothing much left to say. Dean guesses Cas is gonna want to drive him home now, and Dean can’t. He can’t face Sam.

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

Cas doesn’t look surprised. Maybe he gets it. After all, now that Sam knows Dean’s okay, he might be mad at Cas too.

“Sure,” Cas nods. “As long as you promise to be at work on time tomorrow. I need you there.”

Dean huffs, “Right. Gonna give someone some bad news?”

“No. I have a meeting with Zachariah.”

“Ah.” Yep. Cas might be the one needing reassurance then. “I’ll be there. I promise. This was a one-time thing.”

“And I want you to take the weekend off again, try to rest, and maybe patch things up with Sam.”

“Fine.”

Dean gets up. He’s tired, empty now that he told Cas what happened. Cas was right, he needed to get it out.

“And I want to talk to Sam. When the time is right.”

Dean hesitates at that. But this is as much a part of Cas’s life as it is Dean’s. He probably wants to make sure Sam isn’t going to blab to Amelia.

Dean’s also hoping that if Sam sees that Cas truly believes he’s fucking Dean for science, then Sam will go easy on Dean. Easier at least. Doesn’t change the fact that Dean knows exactly what they were doing and did it anyway, but at least it might redirect Sam’s anger at Cas.

So Dean nods.

Satisfied, Cas smiles. “Go to bed, Dean. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Dean just gives a wave, too tired to attempt a proper goodbye, and leaves Cas’s office.

He’s never tested the Study Room’s bed, but he saw the price tag on that mattress, he knows it’s going to be good.

And, yes, he’s slightly hungover, and there’s nowhere he wants to go. Bed sounds about right.

He barely manages to take off his jeans, throws Dad’s jacket haphazardly somewhere, before he falls onto the bed.

It’s the most comfortable bed he’s ever been in. Ever. He can’t believe he never tried to sneak a little nap on it before.

He’s so exhausted that the thought barely has time to cross his mind before he falls into a dreamless sleep. He needs it.

He needs the nothingness.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The weekend went faster than Dean would’ve liked, although he’s glad to be out of the apartment, finally.

Him and Sam have been dancing around each other ever since Dean came back home. Cas called Sam and tried to speak with him, but Dean doubts it had any positive effect.

Sam is silent, mostly. He just looks at Dean without saying anything, as if he’s thinking, weighing all he knows inside his head. Waiting to pass judgment maybe. Decide if he should forgive Dean before he leaves or not.

And Dean… well. He doesn’t know what to say, really, so he leaves it up to Sam.

In the meantime, he tries to keep busy with work.

Today, Sam’s exams start. Next Monday he’ll be graduating. And then he’ll leave. Dean doesn’t want to think about it.

Instead, he focuses on what he does best: his job. And he also does his best to look eager while doing it, too. Cas’s meeting with Zachariah didn’t go well, and Cas has been moody as a result.

Dean’s main job this week is to try and pacify Adler while keeping Cas happy, until they can earn enough money to keep the Study going.

He’s going to do his very best, and he won’t think about Sam, or Benny, and everything is going to be fine.

He’ll be fine.

He repeats this sort of mantra as he walks from the hospital’s parking lot, all the way up to their OB-GYN office.

He only stops when he gets there and realizes that the key won’t fit the lock.

“What the hell?” he mumbles under his breath before trying again.

No luck.

In a moment of confusion, he steps away, reads the name on the door again. It says “C. Novak, M.D.” like it always has, so Dean tries again.

After ten minutes, there’s only one logical conclusion he can come to: the lock has been changed.

“What the hell…” he repeats.

He checks his watch. Seven forty-two. Cas must be coming close to the end of his run. In five minutes, he’ll be in the showers. At eight sharp, he’ll be here.

Dean needs to hurry. Typical of Admin to do something like this and not tell them.

He rushes to the top floor, up to the Admin side of the building, and, secretly, he’s glad they bought the clinic, because the hospital has too many stairs, and the elevator is all but useless with all the times it’s out of order. The clinic at least did wonders for his cardio.

The secretarial office is bigger, here. There’re six girls working at all times during work hours. Right now, there’re only three, and none of them look up at Dean, even as he stops in front of their desks.

He clears his throat, “Excuse-me, ladies.”

“One moment,” one of them says.

Dean doesn’t come up here often, and he barely eats in the cafeteria anymore. Still, he doesn’t recognize any of these girls.

The one who answered him seems to be the boss of the others, because she’s the only one who acknowledges him.

She finishes typing what she’s working on before finally looking up. “What can I do for you?”

She’s not smiling, but Dean can’t hold it against her. After all, one of the guy she’s working under is Adler. If all of the high names of Admin are anything like him, no wonder she doesn’t feel like smiling.

“I was wondering if you knew anything about locks being changed over the weekend on the third floor? The maternity ward?” Dean gives her his brightest grin. “My key won’t work and my boss is gonna get here soon. I really need the new set of keys.”

She raises her perfect eyebrows in surprise and turns to the others. They both shake their heads, so she turns to Dean again.

“I don’t know anything about that.”

Dammit. This is gonna take a while, isn’t it?

“Do you have any way of checking? Someone I could talk to, maybe?”

She sighs, “I would know. All work, including small repairs and replacements have to be approved.” Something on Dean’s face must show he’s starting to panic because she adds, “What’s your office number?”

“Uh, three B, two-oh-nine.”

She stands, goes to a file cabinet and rummages through files.

“I have nothing on record,” she finally says as she comes back to her desk.

“Maybe with the name of the doctor?” Another one suggests. “If he’s the one who asked for it you might have a note from last week.”

They all look at Dean. The three of them, like a weird trio of owls.

“Doctor Novak, OB-GYN. Castiel Novak.”

They don’t move, but the one in charge seems to react, albeit only slightly. Her eyes widen, and she freezes.

“What?” Dean asks.

“You haven’t been notified, yet?”

“Notified of what? I’m the one who usually gets here first. So I guess _you_ have to notify me, so I can tell the Doc.”

She’s suddenly coming toward him, almost running. Dean can’t help it, he takes a step back.

“I am so, so sorry,” she says, empathetically.

 _What the hell?_ “Sorry for what?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Shit, shit, shit, shit. _Shit!_

That asshole Adler. The fucking asshole!

How is Dean going to break the news to Cas? He’s so fucked. As if he needed this, he thinks as he continues pacing in front of their office. It’s like life has been shitting on him for the last two weeks. And now the biggest turd of all has just fallen on his head.

Cas appears around the corner, and Dean’s panic intensifies. Cas sees something is wrong right away judging by his frown.

Dean has no choice, does he?

“What are you doing out here?” Cas asks. “Is there a problem?”

“Hum…” Dean hesitates. “I wouldn’t call that a problem, per say…”

“Then what is it? I have an appointment very soon, so get to the point.”

“Yeah, no. You don’t have any appointment anymore.”

“I know my schedule, Dean. And if Zachariah is trying to have an impromptu meting to tell me he disapproves of the clinic, you can tell him to go f—”

“You’re fired,” Dean blurts before Cas can work himself up. “We… we’re fired. But mostly you, and I guess I’m like a piece of furniture. They don’t need me if you’re not around.”

Cas stands very, very still.

Dean can only guess how he feels, but he has a pretty good idea of what’s going through his head.

The Study is dead. If they don’t have the money from Cas’s job, they don’t have any funds. Looking for donors is expensive as well, the benefits Cas went to cost money, at least for admission.

And they need money to pay the volunteers. No volunteers means no data.

The Study is dead.

Cas’s life is probably flashing in front of his eyes.

“It’s Zachariah, isn’t it?” Cas growls through gritted teeth.

And before Dean can do anything, he’s taking off toward the stairway.

Dean follows, as best as he can – again, climbing up to the clinic every day really helps – until they reach Admin.

“I want to see Doctor Adler,” Cas declares as soon as the secretaries are in view.

The one in charge looks more than embarrassed, “I’m sorry, Doctor Adler is bus—”

But Cas has stopped listening and is now stomping towards a particular office, throwing the door open before plunging in. Adler’s, Dean assumes.

“Doctor Novak!” the secretary finally reacts.

But there’s the sound of another door opening, Adler’s voice going, “Novak—” before Cas explodes.

“What gives you the right, Zachariah? You can’t throw me away like this!”

“Ah. You found out, then.”

“Of course I found out! You don’t give me any notice, you prevent me from reaching my office, is the Board even informed of this?!”

“Close the door, Castiel.”

“Tell me!”

“Of course they know. As you’re perfectly aware, I’m not the one making the decisions here.” Cas scoffs, but Zachariah goes on. “Close the door. Then we can talk.”

There’s a moment of silence. The second door gets closed, and Dean is left in the middle of a corridor, wondering what he should do.

When he turns around, the now four secretaries of Admin are looking at him with pity in their eyes.

It’s just the beginning of it, he knows it. He doesn’t like it at all.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

This day is just getting nuttier by the minute.

After Cas has had a – rather heartfelt if the pitch of his voice Dean could still hear through the door was any indication – discussion with Adler, they both were escorted to their office by security.

Zachariah followed them with a smug smile on his face, and now they’re waiting while one of the security officer is going to fetch the new set of keys.

Dean’s just leaning on a wall, as far from the officers and Zachariah as possible.

He loved his job, he truly did. Will they have to sell the clinic? And if they do, does that mean he won’t see Cas ever again?

Before he can panic about the fact that he’ll truly be alone then, Cas joins him, leaning as casually as is possible for him against the wall as well.

“We don’t have much time, so listen closely. Don’t back talk, don’t ask questions,” Cas whispers. “Zachariah won’t give us a lot of time in there to get our things. There’s one thing I need above everything else that he won’t let you take: my directory. He knows I have a list of every patient, every name, phone number, contact information, and he knows what it looks like. I need you to hide it and take it.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Dean whispers back, uncomfortable.

Zachariah spotted them talking, and is now coming toward them. Lucky for them, the security officer with the key to their office is coming back as well.

“Just try,” Cas says before pushing off the wall.

Zachariah raises his eyebrows at them, as if to say that they can try to sneak things past him, but he won’t let them.

Cas goes for the door as soon as it’s open, but Zachariah stops him with a hand on his shoulder and a sick smile, “You have ten minutes.”

They don’t lose a single second arguing. Dean knows as well as Cas that Adler is not kidding.

They have ten minutes to gather their personal things, and then hurry to gather everything they can carry from the Study that they haven’t moved to the clinic just yet.

Which is to say almost everything. They thought they had time. There’s only a portion at the clinic, around twenty boxes full of their data on masturbation, and some of their volunteers’ files, their notes, what Dean started sorting through and typing.

Hours and hours of work will surely be lost, because Dean doesn’t think they’ll have time to get any of the boxes left.

They’re lucky the cards with their participants’ names on them are already secured in Cas’s safe. The rest of the files only bear the code names they gave them, for privacy. Dean doesn’t even want to imagine what Adler would have done with them if he had people’s name.

Ten minutes, that’s all he has. So he runs.

He grabs the first filing box he sees, checks what’s in it – patients’ files from the hospital, not important – turns the box over and throws everything on the floor.

He knows exactly what he needs from his desk, so he grabs everything and puts it in the box.

A framed picture of him and Sam, all his pencils, just to fuck with Adler, the nice ink pen he got from Amelia for his birthday, that he keeps in its box, in one of his drawer.

He doesn’t have much more that he wants to take with him, but he needs to make things casual. He gathers Cas’s planner, his notebook, and the directory from the drawer as well, doesn’t stop, doesn’t hesitate, throws them in the box and swiftly crouches to pretend to look through the last drawer down.

There’s not much he can grab from there. A box of paperclips would be useful. He goes for it, stands up, and almost jumps out of his skin when he’s suddenly face to face with Zachariah.

“Jesus,” he lets out, hand shooting to his heart.

“What do we have here,” Zachariah says with a creepy smile.

He looks down inside the box, reaching straight for the directory. Dean’s heart sinks inside his chest.

He keeps silent as Zachariah flips through the book, shaking his head.

“Ah, Dean,” he sighs as he closes it. “I’m afraid this is hospital property.”

He hands the book to one of the officers.

“Those are Doctor Novak’s patients,” he spits through gritted teeth.

“That the hospital provided for him,” Zachariah replies. “What’s this,” he points to the planner.

Dean sighs, putting an emphasis on how annoyed he is, “The Doc’s planner. His appointments.”

Adler takes it, reads this one too. “Hm. We’ll keep that one as well.”

 _Dammit_ , Dean thinks. It had everyone’s names. At least the patients Cas saw since September.

“Fine.”

“And this?” Adler takes the notebook from the box.

 _Last chance, Dean_.

“My notes. My thoughts. I don’t like having papers flying around so every time I have to do something I write it down there. You want it? Take it. It’s not like we can work with just this, anyway.”

For good measure, he turns around, taking a scarf he forgot to bring home at the end of the winter from the coat hanger, throws it angrily inside the box.

Zachariah smiles wider, relishing Dean’s anger. He throws Dean’s notebook on top of the scarf.

“You can keep your diary.”

“Gee, thanks.”

And what do you know, Zachariah seems mighty satisfied by that.

“Five minutes left,” he intones before going to check on Cas.

Five minutes in more than enough. Dean has what he wanted.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

They managed to grab a few files. It was important to Dean that they got everything on Ash and Charlie, at the very least, since they still work at the hospital. He doesn’t want them to get in trouble with Adler because of the Study. Cas insisted they get Balthazar’s file for the same reason.

But most importantly, they have Dean’s notebook, going back more than a year, with patients’ names, some of their contact info, or some useful information on what they were seeing Cas for.

He doesn’t have everyone, far from it, but that’s something to start with.

Like he told Zachariah, he likes to take notes for himself. About everything. He’s never been so glad to have a faulty memory, because he’s pretty sure he knows why Cas wants the info for.

They’re both still in deep shit, but maybe, just maybe, they can have a bit of hope.

Right?


	13. Summer 1953

#  **PART III : Orgasm**

#  **Summer 1963**

Sam leaves on a Thursday.

Graduation was nice. He was almost Valedictorian, but was beaten by a thirteen year-old girl. Dean doesn’t mind. He’s proud of his brother, anyway. And he finally met Sam’s friends, which was long overdue.

And then they had a couple of days together, when it almost felt like things were finally getting back to normal between them. Dean has to hand it to Sam, he made an effort. They went out to dinner together one last time, and he let Dean fuss over him as they were packing.

Two suitcases, that’s all it took to pack up Sam’s entire life. It makes Dean uncomfortable, and guilty, because that means it’s all Dean was able to provide for him.

Cas is right, Sam is still a child, and Dean failed him.

Now Dean’s getting back from the airport, after an hour or two of walking around aimlessly once Sam had left. Truth is, he didn’t want to come home, find an empty apartment, and finally feel the loneliness.

As long as he wasn’t home alone, especially at night, without anyone to pester and feed and take care of, it wasn’t real. Not really.

But as he steps inside the apartment, it hits him all at once.

The loneliness, the sadness, missing Sam, missing Benny, missing Cas and his job. The despair that comes with knowing he doesn’t have anyone anymore, he doesn’t have a reason to wake up in the morning.

He only has himself.

He doesn’t know what to do with that. It’s not enough. Not enough to keep going.

But he can’t feel this way. He can’t think that because Sam still needs him, even from far away. Dean can’t give up just yet.

But he wants to. God, how he wants to lay on the floor and let himself fade as he looks at his place, empty, cold, and sad.

That night, he barely sleeps. He tries to think about the Study, how to save it, and he holds on to it like a life-line.

They’ll make it. It might take a while but they’ll pull through. They just have to figure out how.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Going back to being a bartender is not as fun as Dean imagined it would be.

He certainly didn’t miss getting hit on by every Alpha who talked to him, but at least he’s getting decent tips.

Being a secretary was better, though. He had responsibilities, and he felt like what he did mattered, even before he started working with Cas. Now, he’s just making sure people have a drink in their hand, and that’s basically it.

And the hours are awful.

And he misses Cas.

Not that he’ll ever admit that out loud, but he really does miss the bastard. His rants, his lectures. His smell. The color of his eyes, striking in a way he’s never seen on anybody else.

He could call him, use the Study as an excuse, but the possibility that Amelia might answer the phone holds him back. He hasn’t talked to her since the last time he and Cas participated in the Study, and with Sam gone, Dean doesn’t think he could handle the guilt.

Besides, what would he tell Cas? They don’t have the kind of relationship where they can just drop by each other’s house for a chat. If they can’t talk about science, they can’t talk at all.

That’s a depressing thought.

But Cas is probably working on something. It’s only been a couple of weeks since Sam left, but of course it feels longer now that Dean is alone.

He needs to make an effort to call his friends, get out more. He can’t just mope forever because his brother is growing up.

Sam is happy. It’s all that matters. He can’t settle on campus just yet, but he’s already made a friend, and her parents were more than happy to host Sam for the summer, especially because he came all this way, two months in advance, for a job.

When Dean talked to them over the phone, they seemed to be mighty impressed by that.

So, really, Dean has nothing to worry about, and just because his life sucks doesn’t mean he can use that as an excuse to let himself go.

So he works, and he waits, because that’s all he can do.

Wait until Cas finds a solution and calls him, and things can get back to normal.

But waiting is boring, and so he does his best to find something to keep his mind busy. Working with Cas was so stimulating that now it almost feels like he’s dumbing down by the hours.

By the beginning of July, he’s found the library closest to his home, got himself a library card and started borrowing as many books on anatomy, biology and reproduction he could find.

They’re mostly bland, boring books, but he forces himself to read a bit of them every day, until he exhausts the library’s stock of books on the subject.

It’s a small library after all. If he was still working at the hospital, he could’ve had access to the campus’s library.

This would have been great, he thinks one day as he’s browsing the medicine section, cursing himself for not having visited it when he was still working there.

He could try to go back, but he’s pretty sure Zachariah has his and Cas’s face plastered all over the security quarters or something. There’s no way Dean could sneak in there. And the adjoining college’s library is only open to students.

Well, if he was to enroll to night classes or something…

He’s not even going to entertain the thought. He’s too old for it, and anyway he doesn’t have the time, or the means for that matter.

He stops his browsing with a sigh. There’s nothing of interest he hasn’t read yet, he knows that. He’s been trying to find new books but this little old street corner library doesn’t have much to work with, and he’s half-convinced that their catalogue hasn’t been updated in years.

He starts idly walking to the fiction section, looking at the shelves around him.

If he was a student, he would have a reason to call Cas, at least.

And who is he kidding, really? He has plenty of time. Cas used to work his ass so hard that it almost feels like he’s on a constant vacation now that he’s not working for him anymore.

He doesn’t need a lot of sleep anymore, again, thanks to the punishing rhythm Cas imposed on him, and he’s only tending bars at night, until around 2 or 3 in the morning. He has the rest of the day to himself. He could do it. He could be a student.

As for the money, everything he’s put aside for Sam over the years is still there, since Sam has his full ride and his job.

Dean wanted to keep the money in case Sam got tired and wanted to stop working, but so far, Sammy’s holding on. He’s very adamant that he wants to take care of himself, even if he doesn’t have to. Dean has now doubt that he can do it, even when he’ll have to add demanding school hours to his already busy schedule.

So there’s this big pile of money waiting in Dean’s savings account, there’s plenty of time.

What is he waiting for?

This gives him pause, and he stops in the middle of the psychology section, looking around, as if somehow someone will pop up and start listing every reason why he couldn’t enroll in college.

Well, for one, Cas might call any day. Dean can’t register to classes just to quit before they even begin. The Study is still a priority.

He could take summer classes, just to get a taste of it. If it’s not too late. Are there still classes starting mid-July? In August maybe? He would need to go to the university to ask.

But he knows what they’re going to say. It’s too late for the summer, isn’t it?

If only he could hear from Cas soon, if he knew that they won’t be ready for September, for sure, then he could maybe try for a semester, at the very least.

And then see. If night classes work, it would take a while to even finish an undergrad cursus, so he’s not even going to entertain the idea of possibly getting a graduate degree, but an undergrad one might be enough.

And then he would be taken seriously. By Cas, and by the medical community as a whole. It could help with the Study. It could improve so many things.

Well. If the thought won’t leave him, if he still thinks about it in a couple of days, or maybe a week, then he’ll go have a look at the registration office.

Satisfied with this plan, Dean smiles to himself. He grabs the first book he sees in front of him, and checks it out. Everything’s going to be fine.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Castiel never thought he would end up in this position, but here he is.

Jobless, penniless (almost), and depressed.

Now that Zachariah finally got what he wanted, Castiel can’t even get in touch with Balthazar. Zachariah probably forbade him to answer Castiel, which isn’t surprising. What is, though, is that Balthazar would actually obey the hypothetical order.

Nonetheless, Castiel can’t let show the despair he’s feeling, not in front of Amelia. She can’t know how far they’ve fallen.

And he can’t call Dean, because he doesn’t have a reason to.

Technically speaking, he could ask Dean to volunteer at the Clinic, give Castiel a bit of his time. But Castiel doesn’t want to ask that of him. After all, Dean lost his job at the hospital because of Cas. So Castiel can’t, in good conscience, ask him to sacrifice anything else, even if it’s just a bit of his time.

Besides, Castiel won’t have time to go to the Clinic anymore. Amelia is begging him every day to go out and apply to another hospital, find a new job.

She doesn’t know that they’re running out of money, of course, he would never involve her in his finances, but she sees how miserable he is. And maybe she wants him out of her hair as well. 

He _has_ been grumpier than usual, he’ll give her that. But it’s like he can’t control himself. He doesn’t want to talk, or maybe he wants to, just not with her. The way she looks at him every time he tries, the way she apologizes when he snaps at her just gets on his nerves.

At least Dean had the guts to tell him when he was being difficult just for the sake of it. And then they would argue. Blow up one good time, and go back to normal. It provided Castiel with an outlet for the constant anger that never seems to leave him.

Or maybe it did leave when the Study was going strong; He was finally satisfied. He misses the feeling.

He doesn’t think it’s unreasonable of him to hope for and strive toward that kind of happiness. Of peace of mind.

But in order to find it again, he unfortunately has to find a new job.

It’s not really the job that bothers him. Or leaving his colleagues. He wasn’t getting along with most of them anyway. No, it’s the fact that the hospital was his home, the place where he studied medicine, where he took his first steps as a doctor, the place he established his reputation at.

He spent more time there than anywhere else. And now he’s expected to find another hospital and go on as if nothing was wrong?

Well, he can’t just _do_ that. He needs a bit of time to get used to the idea first.

He can start thinking about it, though. He’ll think about it.

That’s a good start.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean is researching this college thing.

He’s researching so thoroughly, in fact, that he finds himself standing in front of the mostly empty college campus, heart in his throat, trying to figure out how to approach this.

It’s not that it’s complicated, really. All he wants to know is how much it will cost him, what classes he can take, and how many hours he needs to set aside out of his days for classes.

If he can keep his job, since it’s mostly a night job, he’s good to go.

And that scares the bejesus out of him.

But Sam has been pretty excited about the idea, giving Dean the final push he needed to actually visit the campus and ask around.

His brother was proud as anything when Dean told him about it. That’s something at least.

Making people proud feels good, Dean’s not gonna lie and deny the fact that he like it. Since he doesn’t have Cas to make him feel this way anymore, he has to make do with what he has.

Not that Sam’s opinion matters less than Cas, of course. It’s just different.

With a sigh, Dean finally takes a first step on the lawn of the campus, striding decisively toward the registration offices.

The college shares the building with the hospital, so Dean knows the place, at least in theory. He’s never had a reason to visit this part of it, though. Still, he shouldn’t be nervous.

Why is he nervous?

He’s a grown ass man, trying to change his circumstances now that he has the means. He has nothing to be nervous about.

Beside the fact that omegas are very rare in the medical fields, so nobody takes the few who are seriously. Right.

He doesn’t want to be an actual doctor, anyway. All he wants is to be able to follow Cas’s train of thought, and have enough credentials that people would at least hesitate before dismissing his point of view.

It’s as good a reason as any, and at least it’s a reasonable goal.

He huffs a small laugh to himself as he reaches the building. _Dean Winchester, M.D_. He pictures in his head how it would look in fake golden letters plastered on a door. It sounds utterly ridiculous.

No, becoming a doctor is not in his plans, not now, not ever. It’s too late for him. If he follows the classes, get his degree, and do everything by the book and in time, he would be thirty-six when starting his fellowship. If he doesn’t give up after his residency, that is.

It’s stupid, alright? It’s a stupid thought, and he won’t entertain it.

They probably won’t let him enroll anyway, so there’s no use in indulging in stupid dreams like this one. The only important thing will always be what’s right in front of him.

For now, it’s the registration building and its beautiful, old stone walls.

So he steps inside.

The entry hall is deserted. He can see there’s supposed to be a clerk’s desk at the entrance, but it’s empty, and a sign has been propped up on it. It reads, ‘Registration: undergraduates’ with an arrow going left, and ‘Registration night classes: Second Floor’.

Dean looks up, noticing a stone staircase at the end of the big hall.

He follows the instructions, climbing his way to the second floor.

Here, there are a couple of people walking around, and the strange, uneasy feeling that he’s alone, and maybe he’s not allowed in there slowly dissipates.

There’s an arrow pointing to an office for night class registrations, so he follows this one too.

All he wants, for now, is gather information on which classes he could take, and maybe register to a couple of them. Just for starters. Just until Cas finally calls him.

As he arrives in front of the office he’s looking for, his heart suddenly skips a beat, and he has to take a second to calm his nerves.

It’s getting ridiculous.

He wasn’t even that nervous when he interviewed for Cas, and at the time it was either getting the job or ending on the street by the end of the month.

He let Cas believe he had given his notice because of the Study, but the truth was that Doc Sutton fired him because Dean refused to suck his dick.

This time, nothing’s wrong. It’s just something extra he wants to do, just because he can. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal.

But maybe that’s why it’s so nerve-wracking. Maybe it’s because things are going too well, and Dean’s anticipating the moment the other shoe is going to drop. Either that, or he’s scared of getting rejected, because this time he actually knows he wants to do this. Badly. Get an actual degree. Wouldn’t that be neat?

Alright. He’s waited enough. Nothing bad is going to happen, he firmly tells himself as he knocks on the door and pushes it open.

There’s a snotty-looking clerk inside, a young guy – a student maybe? – sitting at a make-shift desk.

When Dean closes the door behind himself, the clerk looks up, eyeing Dean from head to toe.

Dean smiles in answer, because he doesn’t want to appear antagonistic, and utters a small ‘Hello’, but the clerk doesn’t answer, choosing instead to go back to what he was doing.

Okay…

Dean walks up to the clerk, hoping the little asshole is just a bit shy or something, because he’s not in the mood for this. His anxiety is already chewing on his insides, he doesn’t need anger mixed up in it as well.

“Erm… excuse-me,” he tries, coming closer to the desk.

The clerk looks up, expression blank.

Maybe he’s just tired, Dean thinks to himself. Maybe he doesn’t feel like smiling today.

“I, hum… do you know what I need to do to register for night class? How I can choose my classes and—”

“Choose a form and fill this form,” the guy interrupts, sliding several sheets of paper Dean’s way.

Dean gets a whiff of annoyance drifting from him. The clerk’s not wearing any blockers, and he’s a very pissed off Alpha, apparently. What’s he’s angry about, Dean can’t say. In any case, Dean didn’t think you could smell entitlement, but there it is.

“No, I just want to gather some information, I don’t know if I want to register just yet.”

With a sigh, the clerk drops his pen, giving Dean his full, uninterested attention. “What do you want to know?” he drawls.

“I, huh, I’d like to know how it works, to, hum, to start an undergrad program—””

“You have to register as a pre-med student first but they don’t do night classes for this one.”

“Yeah, no,” Dean laughs uncomfortably, “I don’t want to be a med student, maybe something more, hum… maybe less prestigious.”

The clerk blinks at him. “I can’t help you if you don’t even know what you want.”

Dean’s hand twitches. It’s the first time in his life that he almost punches someone before he can even think about it. “I’m interested in psychology,” he lets out through gritted teeth.

The clerk snorts.

“That’s some omega crap, you don’t want to do that.”

Dean bristles. He can’t hold back the rage building up inside him.

“I don’t see how who’s in the class changes anything.”

“Right. You want to spend your evenings surrounded by whiny bitches who only want to talk about who hurt them and why it’s not their fault they’re not finding a nice Alpha to settle with?” He shakes his head. “I mean, go ahead, they might want to settle for you instead.”

And this finishes to undo Dean.

He doesn’t know what happens. One second he’s standing there listening to some Alpha bullshit, the next he’s filling one of the forms the clerk first handed him, not really knowing what he’s signing for, but he’s determined to show this asshole that secondary genders don’t mean shit when you’re fueled by spite.

It’s only when he’s signing his name that he realizes he’s actually registering to be pre-med.

Shit.

Well, there’s no going back now. He hands the paper to the clerk. “I hope they don’t mind omegas in pre-med,” he says, not holding back his anger anymore. “I’d hate for them to think I’m only there to find someone to settle with.”

And, yeah, there’s not much of a punch to what he’s saying, but he’s angry, and disappointed, and shit! His heart is beating so fast it hurts.

He has to get out of here.

It’s only when he reaches the parking lot that he becomes aware of what he just did.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, finding a new job wasn’t as much of a chore as Castiel made it out to be. He didn’t even have to look for it, really. It came to him.

Doctor Graham was kind enough to agree to take him in the last time they called each other to talk about the Clinic. Graham’s position in his workplace is such that he was able to pull some strings, and find Castiel a position.

It’s a small one, Castiel now being one of many obstetricians in the maternity ward of St James Hospital, but at least it’s something. He’s very grateful.

And he hates it.

He hates his new office because it’s much smaller than what he’s used to, he hates his secretary because she can’t do more than one thing at once and works for two other doctors beside Castiel, and he has to wait his turn when she’s busy. He hates his colleagues who either relentlessly mock him for the Study, or try to get as many perverted details as possible, sometimes both at once, and he hates Doctor Graham.

This last one surprised him. Dean had warned him that Graham was a smug bastard, but Castiel didn’t believe him at the time, thinking it was just Dean being a bit sensitive. He hadn’t noticed, the few times he saw the doctor in passing. But seeing him every day, he now sees things that only prolonged periods of time spent with him could have uncovered.

How Dean managed to judge his character so accurately on the first meeting is beyond Castiel. Maybe it’s an omega thing. Maybe it’s a Dean thing.

In any case, Castiel misses him. Dean. He misses his instincts, his intellect.

And he misses his body and his smell and the way they fit together as if they were made for each other.

He shouldn’t, of course, he’s well aware of the fact. But now that he’s had a taste of what they both could be together, he just can’t get enough.

He didn’t think sex could be so fulfilling. When he started the Study, it was in part because the only way he could get interested in sex was clinically. He’s never felt passionate about his intimate relationship with Amelia.

It occurs to him that he ought to feel shame about it, but it’s like he can’t bring himself to.

His situation was, in all honesty, great, before Zachariah put his ugly nose into his affaires. He had his Clinic, he had Amelia, and he had Dean, and it all worked out perfectly. He was happy.

Currently, he’s far from it. In addition to being slow, his secretary is also dumb as a rock. And that’s how he’s found himself staying later and later, typing his own notes because she keeps misspelling any word remotely scientific, and calling patients to let them know about their test results because she doesn’t know what anything in his field means, nor does she care to learn about it.

What he wouldn’t give to have Dean by his side…

But that’s not possible, of course. He has no leverage in his new work place. It was nice enough of them to hire him, he can’t really afford to complain.

He should call Dean, at least to tell him what’s been going on. Maybe pay him a visit.

Or maybe not. Maybe he should wait until he can pay for the Clinic’s down payments first, so as to not worry Dean. He doesn’t want to tell him he took a mortgage on his own house to gain a bit of time. He didn’t tell Amelia, so he doesn’t see why Dean should know before she does.

Besides, Castiel’s pretty sure Dean wouldn’t approve, and he would be very vocal about it.

So, no, Cas won’t contact Dean just yet. Better wait until things start looking up.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“ _So, what about you_?” Sam asks, and Dean adjusts the phone between his shoulder and his ear, uncomfortable. “ _Anything exciting happening? Did you hear back from Cas?_ ”

“No, nothing,” Dean answers.

He lets his tone of voice convey how defeated it makes him feel.

“ _And?_ ”

“And nothing. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“ _You should call him_.”

“Who? Cas?” Dean huffs a bitter laugh, “Nah. He’ll call me when he needs me. Why would I call him?”

“ _To say hello? Tell him you miss him? I don’t know_.”

“For the last time, Sammy, we’re not a couple, he’s my boss.” Just saying that out loud makes Dean’s heart skip a beat. But Sam knows, there’s no use denying what he already knows outright. “I can’t just call him out of the blue every time I feel like it.”

Sam’s silence seems to speak louder than words. Luckily, he doesn’t comment and changes the subject.

“ _So that’s all that’s been happening since I’m gone? Nothing? Did you at least get some info on night classes like you wanted?_ ”

Dean keeps stirring his sad little pot of canned peas while he considers if he should tell Sam about the registration mishap or not.

“ _Dean?_ ”

“Yeah, I, hum… yeah, I went there. Checked it out. And, hum, registered?”

Silence. Then, loudly, “ _What?_ ”

“I registered to—”

“ _I heard you!_ ”

“Then why—”

“ _Dean! That’s great!_ ”

“Is it?”

There’s an incredulous huff on the other end of the line, and Dean pictures Sam rolling his eyes at him. It makes him smile.

“ _Of course!_ ” Sam exclaims. “ _So what did you choose?_ ”

“Uh,” Dean lets out. “I might change that because it was kind of a spur of the moment decision,” he warns, “but… I guess I’m a pre-med student now?”

“ _Holy shit!_ ”

“Language, Sammy.”

Sam ignores him. “ _You need to tell Castiel! Holy cow, that’s so great! I’m so excited for you Dean!_ ”

Dean huffs, turning the burners off. “Hold on, hold your horses. I’m gonna try, okay, but first, I have a job that I need to keep—”

Sam scoffs, “ _There’s plenty of dives looking for bartenders._ ”

“And second,” Dean goes on as if he wasn’t interrupted, “I barely managed to finish high school. I don’t think I’ll be able to follow the program, anyway.”

“ _That’s bull._ ”

Dean sighs.

“ _You worked with Cas for a year. You’ve had the best training anyone could ask for._ ”

Sometimes, Sam can really sound way beyond his years, and it never fails to make Dean uncomfortable. He’s the big brother. He should be the one doing the reassuring.

Instead of answering, he changes the subject. “So he’s ‘Cas’ now? I thought you hated the nickname.”

Sam huffs, “ _Shut up. I got used to it. Besides, ‘Castiel’ is a bit of a mouthful._ ”

Dean agrees, and Sam doesn’t push.

They keep chatting idly for a while, Sam excitedly psyching himself up for Dean’s classes, while Dean tries to get him to focus on his own, first.

It feels good to find their proper dynamic again. It’s almost like their last few months together never happened. Sam is truly happy. There’s no word strong enough in the English vocabulary to describe how relieved Dean is.

“ _I have to go_ ,” Sam finally sighs regretfully after an hour.

The receiver is burning Dean’s ear, but he couldn’t care less. “Yeah, you need your beauty sleep,” he agrees. “Like, a lot.”

“ _Har, har_.”

“More than a lot.”

“ _Dean!_ ”

“Alright,” Dean laughs quietly. “You take care, alright? And you call me after your first day. I want to know everything!”

“ _Sure thing. But only if you do the same_.”

“Yeah, yeah. I might not even start anyway,” he shrugs, although nobody can see him. “Cas might still call.”

Sam sighs, annoyed this time, “ _Then call him first. At least to know if you can do your first semester in peace_.”

Dean doesn’t answer right away, because he hates this. It’s weighing on him, of course, the whole Study thing, not knowing if it’s going to happen or not. And he wants to talk about it. And he knows that what Sam is suggesting would be the right thing to do.

He just doesn’t want to do it.

He doesn’t know why, because it’s not out of laziness. There’s probably a bit of apprehension, of course, but it’s not that either.

It feels like it would be pointless. Or maybe he knows Cas would find a way to talk him out of going to college, and Dean wouldn’t be able to stop him.

He doesn’t want to give up on that dream just yet.

“ _Dean?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“ _Seriously, fuck the Study_!”

“Sam…”

“ _I’m serious_ ,” Sam blows out in a breath. “ _You’ve been killing yourself on it for a year, and now what do you have to show for it, huh?_ ”

Dean stays silent again. Sammy’s right, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“ _So call Castiel_ ,” Sam finishes. “ _Please. At least so I can stop worrying about you_.”

Dan sighs. The kid is good, he has to give him that. He almost gives in. Almost.

“I’ll think about it.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

‘In a fool mood’ doesn’t begin to describe how Castiel is feeling these days.

Doctor Graham is the rudest, most lewd person he’s ever had the displeasure to work with, and keeping Castiel’s opinion to himself is an everyday struggle.

When Graham first asked Castiel to give lectures to his colleagues about the Study in exchange for the job, Cas had actually been flattered. Turns out all they wanted was to gather enough information to satisfy their lecherous curiosity. They had the gall to be disappointed when Castiel told them he didn’t have any pictures. One of them even asked if he had any sessions on film!

So, now, he has to live with the fact that he’s working with a bunch of perverts. The worst part is, he can’t even talk about it with anyone. Amelia can’t know, obviously, and he doesn’t even have Dean to complain to anymore.

He’s stuck. He hates it.

There must be something he could do to make his work days better, but so far he has no clue what it could be. He keeps hoping that once the novelty of his research will have faded, his colleagues will leave him alone.

Until then, he focuses on the Clinic.

Which is to say he doesn’t have much to focus on, because he’s in the process of losing it, and his own home along with it.

So, really, he doesn’t think he can sink any lower. Things can only go up from there, he thinks as he enters his house after another grueling day of work.

“Cassie?” Comes Amelia’s voice from the kitchen.

“Yes.”

He’s tired. _Please don’t let her ask for anything tonight_.

“Coffee?” She simply asks.

“Yes, thank you,” he says, relieved.

Untying his tie as he steps into the kitchen, he haphazardly throws it over his shoulder, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. Amelia is alone, to his great relief.

But her tea is sitting on the table neatly, there’s cake and two plates, and she’s in the process of putting his coffee down opposite her. She’s using her best coffee cups.

She wants to talk, he realizes as he blinks stupidly at the display. God only knows what it’s about, but he’s really not up to it.

She looks up at him with a smile, “Good day at work?”

All he wants is to ignore her and go take a bath. Or maybe masturbate. Or both, but not necessarily in that order.

“It was fine,” he sighs as he sits.

“Well,” Amelia sits as well, busying herself with cutting two perfect pieces of cake. “Mine was good, too.”

She did not make the cake herself. He recognizes the swirling pattern made out of whipped cream atop the Black Forest cake. His favorite. From _Dessert Delight_. He’s not going to like what’s about to come out of her mouth.

“What happened?” he asks bluntly.

He doesn’t have time for politeness. He’s too tired for it.

“Nothing,” Amelia sighs. She brings her now full plate closer to her. “I just wanted us to spend a bit of quality time together. We don’t chat anymore. I miss it. “A beat, where she hesitates, then, “I miss you.”

Guilt pierces through Castiel, briefly but sharply. He looks down at the piece of cake she served him. “I’ m sorry.”

It’s getting easier to admit, now that he’s apologized a few times, but he’s not sure he means it. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“It’s okay, I know you work hard.” When he looks up, Amelia is still smiling. “But maybe we could do this,” she eyes the table, then comes back to him, “more often. Not every day, just… from time to time.”

Castiel nods, “Of course.”

It seems to finally appease her all the way, and she relaxes against her seat.

She keeps glancing up at him through her eyelashes as she carefully brings her cup of tea to her mouth, and gently blows on it. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Maybe after dinner tonight,” she starts when it’s clear he’s not going to talk, “we could—”

She’s interrupted by the phone ringing, frowns, and gets up to answer with a sigh.

Castiel hopes his relief is not too evident on his face. He can read the cues she was projecting onto him better than anyone now. He saw what she wanted to say. Her pupils were slightly enlarged, she was lightly scrapping her left collarbone and her cheeks were slightly flushed.

She wants to have sex and he’s really not in the mood.

Sipping on his coffee, he takes advantage of the moment of peace to look at her as she twists the cord around her finger. She’s smiling as she speaks, but she’s almost whispering, so he doesn’t really understand what she’s saying.

He’s tired. Not just physically, but intellectually as well, having to navigate around his colleagues at work, around Amelia to avoid telling her how deep their problems go. He’s tired of this house. He’s tired of her trying too hard to find the balance in their relationship again, and he’s tired of feeling guilty because he just doesn’t want to put in the effort as well.

He’s too exhausted to do so, and so he’s stuck in this vicious cycle of pretending everything is fine and saying ‘I’m sorry’, and letting her think things are going to get better.

He’s not sure they’re going to be. He doesn’t know if he wants them to be.

She’s talking to him.

He blinks, “Sorry?”

“It’s for you,” she repeats, presenting the receiver in his direction. “It’s Dean.”

Castiel’s heart does a complicated somersault inside his chest, and he swallows around the guilt as he gets up – a bit too eagerly – to take the call.

Amelia squeezes his arm as he takes the receiver from her, before disappearing into the laundry room with a sad, resigned smile.

“Hello?”

“ _Heya, Cas_.”

Castiel almost melts on the spot. He doesn’t show it, of course, either on his face, or in the tone of his voice. He tries to sound as stern as he usually does.

“How are you, Dean?”

“ _Uh, fine. Mostly. How are you?_ ”

“Fine, busy, as usual.”

Dean scoffs, “ _Of course. Well, I am too, you know. And, hum, I guess I was wondering how everything was going with the Study. It’s been months_.”

Of course he’s calling about the Study. They’re not friends. They’re not even coworkers. Castiel wonders why he was expecting anything different.

Besides, he hasn’t made a courtesy call to Dean either, so he can’t really blame him.

Castiel takes the time to sigh pointedly before answering. “Not great. I didn’t have time to go back to the Clinic just yet. With my new position, it’s been hard to do anything, really.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “ _You have a new job?_ ”

Castiel can’t say he’s good at reading people over the phone. But he knows Dean, and that heavy pause sounded oddly like startled hurt. Almost like jealousy.

“Yes. I still had some contacts with Doctor Graham, and he generously offered me a position in his Department.”

“ _Uh_ ,” Dean lets out. “ _Congratulations, then. How is it going?_ ”

The urge to lie is strong. Dean doesn’t have to know what’s happening. Castiel could let him think that everything is well, that he’s having a blast.

But he also needs to talk to someone, badly, and Dean is the only one who can understand.

He glances toward the laundry room, but there’s not sign that Amelia is going to come out any time soon. The door is closed.

“It’s… going. Poorly.” He shakes his head, as if Dean could see him. “I want to kill everyone. It’s awful.”

Dean laughs quietly. Castiel wishes he could see him. “ _Okay, you gotta tell me all about it now. You can’t leave me hanging._ ”

So Castiel tells him. Everything from his naïve joy at being asked to talk about the Study to his disillusion when he realized they were all leering on his work. He tells Dean about his reservations about Graham slowly turning into hatred. He tells him how stuck he feels now.

He tells him about the Clinic and the endless calls with the bank to keep it afloat.

“I took a mortgage on the house,” he tells Dean, barely a whisper.

Dean only sighs in answer. “ _Why didn’t you call me?_ ”

“What would you have done?”

“ _I don’t know. We would have found something together. Better than you carrying everything on your own_.”

Castiel runs a hand through his hair, an odd gesture he realizes he stole from Dean. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“ _Yeah, well, I’m worried now. We need to find a solution. You and me, not you alone_.”

Castiel wants that. He wants to see Dean again, smell him, touch him. He doesn’t say it. “I don’t know that you could help much.”

“ _You hired me because I brought a new perspective to your work,”_ Dean argues. _“So don’t tell me you don’t need me now that it’s going south_.”

He’s right, of course, and Castiel misses him so much. “We’re not going to resolve this over the phone.”

“ _Well_ ,” Dean pauses. Castiel can picture him shrugging. “ _I can at least help you feel less like crap. And then we can find a way to meet and think it over_.”

“Very generous of you.”

‘ _Yeah, I’m great like that_.”

 _You are_ , Castiel wants to say. But of course, they’re not close enough that he can compliment Dean every time he feels like it. Especially like this, for nothing. For the pleasure of making Dean happy.

“So,” he sighs, “how do you propose to make me feel better?”

A millisecond too late, he realizes this could be understood as a come-on. He almost apologizes, or clarifies, but something stops him.

Would it be so bad if they started flirting over the phone? Of course, Amelia is right there, somewhere in the house, but he can be clever about it.

Dean understands him like no one else. He would get some oddly veiled innuendos.

“ _Hum_ ,” Dean lets out in a half-cough, half-laugh. “ _I don’t know. I could tell you about my shitty job. Would that work?_ ”

Cas has no right to be disappointed that Dean didn’t take the bait. He’s being professional, after all, and Castiel never gave him clues that they could do this outside of work. Quite the contrary.

But the idea took roots in Castiel’s mind, and he’s already feeling the low, tingling warmth inside his lower belly signifying arousal.

Fuck being professional. Like Dean said, they haven’t talked in months.

“ _I wasn’t thinking about that, no_ ,” he answers, attempting to sound seductive.

There’s a slight pause before Dean scoffs. Castiel can hear him lick his lips, and he knows Dean understood.

“ _You’re not saying what I think you’re saying_.”

“Would it be that surprising?”

“ _Uh, yeah? Cas… this has nothing to do with the Study. It’s just… just us_.”

He’s right. Again.

“It’s been months,” Castiel breathes, because he’s weak.

“ _You’re the one always telling me we’re not— to keep it professional. So I’m keeping it professional_.”

Of course, this is logical, once again, and Cas hates that Dean always manages to make him see reason, no matter the subject. He hums, because he has to acknowledge this, but he doesn’t like it one bit.

“I think I like you better when you’re arguing with me.”

Dean doesn’t laugh. “ _I mean… I wouldn’t mind it. It’s just, you change your mind like your change your pants. I wanna know where we stand_.”

“We…” Shit, what does he say? It’s true, it’s all true. “I don’t know. I guess, like you said, you can’t prevent attachment from happening, even when the objective is research. You can’t take the human component out of it. I certainly can’t.”

“ _So what does it mean?_ ”

Dean’s annoyed, just a little, but enough that it comes through his tone.

“I can’t… really say. Out loud,” he whispers.

Dean sighs. “ _So answer me truthfully, then. You like me, correct?_ ”

Castiel’s heart skips a beat. “Yes.”

“ _And you want me_.”

“Yes.”

“ _So you want us to… what? Start an affair?_ ”

“No!” Castiel breathes. He has to close his eyes. But he can’t do that for too long, because he needs to keep an eye on the laundry room door. “No, I don’t—I didn’t intend it to be this way, but I guess… I guess it’s already happening, isn’t it?”

Dean is silent for a moment, like he’s thinking. “ _I like Amelia. She’s a friend._ ”

“I know. I’m sorry I asked—”

“ _Just so we’re clear_.”

“Wh—all right. I understand.”

A sigh. Then, “ _It would be interesting to see if a bond has the same effects at a distance. Like, over the phone, for example. It could be useful to include in the Study, just so we could prove that once the bond is in place, it can or cannot be diminished with a good amount of space between the subjects._ ”

Relief pulses through Castiel as he understand that Dean is giving him a way out. A way to push away the guilt, and make it mean something. God, Castiel misses him so much!

“Yes, it could add some value to the research,” he agrees, slowly. “We should take notes of the difference in physical reactions, see if the physiological responses are the same with the subjects apart and together.”

Dean blows out a breath. “ _Yes, we should. Are you alone?_ ”

There’s the noise of a chair legs scrapping on the floor, then wood creaking.

“In the house? No,” Castiel answers, and guilt briefly pierces through him at the triumphant feeling running through his body, ending its course in the pit of his guts. “Where I’m standing, yes.”

“ _Then sit down. We’re working_.”

“Okay. Hum, give me a second,” Castiel mumbles, looking around.

He leaves the receiver for a second, grabs a chair, and sits, as quick as he can.

“Alright,” he breathes as he brings the receiver to his ear again. “You… you understand I can’t really be clinical about this. But I—I would very much appreciate a… thorough analysis of the situation on your part.”

Dean huffs a laugh, “ _Calm down, it’s just talk, okay? I’m not… I’m not touching myself while I’m on the phone. We’re just talking, alright?_ ”

“Yes, of course.” Castiel licks his lips when a brief flash of Dean masturbating while sitting alone in the middle of his kitchen pops into his head for a second, “I know.”

“ _Can I ask you something_?”

“Of course.”

“ _Don’t you and Amelia... you know?_ ”

Castiel takes a second before answering that. “The work you and I accomplish together is much, much different from what I can achieve, huh, at home. Alone.”

“ _You’re not alone_.”

“Sometimes it feels like I am.”

Dean sighs, “ _Does she know? About the Clinic, the mortgage and all that?_ ”

Castiel shakes his head, annoyed. He wants a fantasy, not a lecture. “I would appreciate if we could stay on topic.”

“ _So, no. Cas…_ ”

“Dean.”

“ _I’m going to regret saying that, but—_ ”

“Then don’t say it.”

 _“—if you don’t show her how to please you, and how she could, huh, benefit from sex with her husband, of course you’re not going to appreciate it when it happens_.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Castiel snaps in a whisper, miffed. “It’s none of your concern.”

“ _It is a little. If we’re going to do this… I don’t want to be taking anything away from her._ ”

 _It’s a bit late for that_ , Castiel thinks. He’s never been that attracted to Amelia in the first place, so now that he knows what it feels like to be unequivocally, irrepressibly, so entirely attracted to someone else, he’s not about to make an effort with her.

It’s too late. He’s ruined for anyone else.

“Can we…” he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly with his free hand, “just delay that discussion for another time? Please.”

Dean takes a few second to mull it over. Castiel waits patiently.

“ _Okay. Okay, but you’re aware this phone thing is more than weird, right?_ ”

“We’ve done stranger things,” Castiel answers, relieved.

Dean huffs, “ _Yeah. Right. But now we’re both very aware we’re kind of using the Study to get off_.”

“Don’t--” Castiel stops himself, eyelashes fluttering shut under the shame, “Please don’t remind me.”

“ _Sorry. So, hum, you really want to study the… ramifications of sex through the phone, then?_ ”

Castiel can’t help but smile at that. “I have to admit it’s pure personal curiosity. Don’t tell anyone.”

“ _So you haven’t gotten laid in a while_ ,” Dean says with a smile in his voice, “ _Gotcha_.”

“I… No,” he admits, quietly. “She… asks. In her own way, but it all feels so…” he trails off.

“ _Bland?_ ”

“Yes.”

“ _Yeah, I can understand that_.”

He has to admit he’s a little bit relieved to hear Dean say it. Castiel feels less alone, and less guilty, knowing that Dean probably feels the same.

“ _So_ ,” Dean sighs after a few seconds of silence where Cas tries to think of what to say, “ _are you going to ask me what I’m wearing?_ ”

Castiel can’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. “The base conditions of the experiment don’t interest me,” Castiel answers as the warmth settles back inside his belly, “I just want to hear the result.”

Dean huffs again, “ _I told you I wasn’t going to jerk off over the phone, but fine. Just so you know, I just showered, and I’m wearing the robe I stole from that fancy hotel you took me to last time. Only the robe_.”

“Good. The parameters are good, then.”

“ _I don’t know how you manage to make that sound sexy_.”

“I’m a trained professional.”

“ _Of course you are_ ,” Dean snorts. “ _What about you? What are you wearing?_ ”

“This is irrelevant,” Castiel smiles.

His eyes find the door to the laundry room, still closed, and he relaxes.

“ _Not to me it’s not. Come on. Sharing is caring._ ”

Castiel blows out a breath. “I just came back from work. Does that answer your question?”

“ _Which suit? Black, brown or blue?_ ”

“The blue one.”

“ _Okay, then blue slacks, button up and a vest_.”

“No vest. It’s still warm, you know.”

“ _I know, I live here too_.”

Dean hums then, and Castiel pictures him pulling on the cord around his robe slowly to let it fall open. Dean said he won’t masturbate, he didn’t say anything about Castiel not being allowed to fantasizing about it.

“ _Sleeves rolled up_?”

Castiel’s surprised by the question, but Dean is amused now, immersed in the game, so Cas obediently answers. “Yes. And I took off my tie.”

“ _Cheeky._ ”

Castiel laughs quietly. “Only you would think so.”

“ _Well, I always see you with the full attire on. So show me a bit of skin and I’m all done for_.”

“You didn’t seem that phased when… the study was in full swing.”

“ _Are you kidding?_ ” Dean exclaims. “ _It was like Christmas came early! Surely you’re aware that you’re built like a tank, right?_ ”

A pleasured flush rises up his cheeks at the words, but he plays it down. “It’s never been commented on before.”

“ _Well, I’m commenting right now. You’re a dreamboat, Cas._ ”

“I don’t know that I am,” Castiel carefully says as the warmth now takes roots inside his chest, “I just try to take care of myself.”

“ _You really have no idea_ ,” Dean says in wonder. “ _Well, I’m telling you. When… when I touch myself…_ ”

Castiel’s stomach jumps hearing the stutter in Dean’s voice.

“ _I picture your forearms peeking out from under your sleeves. The cut of your jaw. Your eyes. Is that okay to say?_ ”

It takes Castiel a second, because his mouth is suddenly dry, but he manages a hurried, “Yes,” too eager for Dean to go on.

“ _And your ass, man! Don’t get me started on your ass. I’m sure you could bounce a quarter off of it. I just… last time, all I wanted to do was bury my face in there. And, hum… maybe a coupla’ fingers_.”

“You—” Castiel almost chokes on his own words, because his brain is suddenly devoid of all its blood as it’s rushed south. “You would do that? To an Alpha?”

Dean chuckles, and Castiel can tell he’s proud of himself.

“ _Sure. If the, huh_ , Alpha _in question doesn’t mind it. If I’m honest, it’s kind of a fantasy of mine. The power-play alone, can you imagine_?”

“I, huh,” Castiel swallows, uninvited images of Dean fucking him popping into his head, “Y—yes. I can imagine very well.”

“ _And I know from experience,_ ” Dean goes on, slowly, as if he’s testing the waters, “ _that once there’s a couple of fingers fucking you open, you always want more. I know I do._ ”

“Are you—” Castiel stops himself before he can say ‘naked’.

He’s not alone, he has to remember that.

“ _I told you I wasn’t going to—_ ”

“No, no. I know. I’m sorry.”

“ _I kinda want to now, but…_ ”

“I understand. I…” He’s so very conscious of the weight of his erection and the way his cheeks are heating that he can’t help eyeing the door to the laundry room constantly. He’s starting to sweat. “I’m right there with you.”

“ _You’re not going to…_ ”

“Of course not. You know I can’t.”

All he wants to do is take himself in hand and get to town, but his wife is in the next room, and he should really be more careful. He needs to come back to reality.

“ _Cas?_ ”

He’s stopped talking for too long. “Sorry. I was… somewhere else.”

Dean laughs, full-bellied and warm, and the awkwardness that Cas is feeling evaporates with the sound.

“ _I bet you were. Well, not that I don’t like doing this but…_ ”

“Yes,” Castiel lets out in a breath. He tries to will his erection to go down, to calm the erratic beating of his heart. “I guess the conditions for the experiment are not ideal. We should…” he trails off.

“ _Yeah, that was fun. Still weird, but fun. You’re just… I never thought you’d ask for something like this, if I’m honest. Maybe that’s why it feels so weird. We’re not—We’ve never talked about doing this outside of the lab. Even the hotel thing was weird_.”

Castiel just hums, because what else could he say? It was strange. He knows he pushed his luck with this one, so that Dean keeps indulging his every whim is nothing short of miraculous. He intends on taking advantage of every single one of those time.

“ _I was sort of kidding when I talked about… you know, starting an affair_ ,” Dean goes on, an Castiel opens his mouth to answer but Dean doesn’t let him. “ _I mean, maybe ‘kidding’ isn’t the right word. I knew it would rile you up, so that’s why I said it. I really, huh, appreciate the work we do together. I kinda miss it. And like you said, you can’t take the emotional attachment that comes with sex, especially with someone you see every day. I, hum, I hope this isn’t too forward of me to say this, but I appreciate you. As a person, you know?”_ He sighs, and his chair creaks again. Castiel imagines him leaning back against the backrest. _“Even though you’re an asshole most of the time…_ ”

Castiel huffs a small laugh. “I… can’t defend myself on that. I am. And it’s okay. I appreciate you as well Dean. And your work, never doubt that. I know I could’ve said it more often, but you know how I am…”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Dean laughs again, and Castiel is pleased, “ _I do_.” He inhales, then, and the conversation almost comes to a lull. But Dean speaks again. “ _By the way, I, hum, I actually called to tell you something_.”

“Oh?”

If the erection wasn’t gone before, now it’s completely disappeared. Castiel hates when people start their sentence with ‘I have something to tell you’.

“ _Yeah. I wanted to know if the Study was back on or not, because I… huh, I might not be available for a little while. There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while, and since I wasn’t hearing from you I thought, you know, why not do it?_ ”

“Okay…”

“ _So, long story short, I…_ ” another breath. Dean’s bracing himself. “ _I registered to college?_ ”

Castiel’s thoughts seem to grind to a stop, barely for a second, but long enough that it makes whatever he’s going to say next very awkward. By the time he realizes this, another second has passed.

He settles for, “I… don’t know what to say.”

“ _Okay…_ ”

“Congratulations? I didn’t know you wanted to go back to school.”

Dean huffs, and Castiel has a feeling that there’s a lot unspoken in that simple exhale. “ _Yeah. Well, I did. And I didn’t hear from you so I just went for it_.”

He seems a bit miffed, somehow. Castiel won’t try to figure out why, he’s too tired. And horny.

“No, I understand,” he says. “If you had the opportunity, it’s good that you took it.” Of course, he doesn’t say that he’s disappointed, that he somehow assumed Dean would wait for him. But why would he? “What are you studying, then?”

“ _I, hum… I don’t think it’s gonna stick but I’m trying my chance at med school. Sort of._ ”

“Oh. I mean, wow. Dean,” Castiel licks his lips. This conversation took a really strange turn. “This is… it’s great, it really is. But what about your job? You know medical school takes a lot of time, and money.”

“ _Yeah, well, I’m still working. My job’s a night thing. We’ll see how it goes. And I have all the money I kept for Sam, so… I’ll figure it out. It probably won’t work, but I can try._ ”

As he takes this all in, Castiel is suddenly dizzy. He knows, intimately, what being a medical student implies. Dean will first try to reconcile his regular life with his studies. But soon, it will become impossible, if he really is up to the task of becoming a doctor, and he’ll spend more and more time at the university.

Nothing else will matter. Castiel knows how Dean is when he’s focused. He’s going to lose him.

“Yes. Yes, that’s, ah, that’s a good plan,” he rushes out. “But, Dean…”

“ _Don’t ‘but’ me, I know it’s going to be hard, but I’m—_ ”

“No, no, I’m not trying to dissuade you…” _Liar_. “It’s just that I was in the process of looking over the different medical conferences and charity events around town, and I was about to call you to ask for your help. I realize that I’m not really good at all these social events, and if I—we want to save the Clinic, I was hoping you would be available.”

_Breathe._

Dean hesitates, only for a second. “ _You said you didn’t know how I could help you…_ ”

“I lied,” Castiel says. “I didn’t want to ask right away. I didn’t want you to think I was only capable of talking about work.”

“ _Uh. Okay_ ,” Dean answers. The silence on his end doesn’t sound very happy, but Castiel lets him stew in it. He knows how Dean works by now. “ _Well… I, huh, I guess I can work something out with my boss. Get a night off or something. I’ll just need a heads-up_.”

“Of course,” Castiel sighs, more to regulate his breathing than for anything else. “I just hope you’ll be there when the Clinic opens up again.”

“ _Uh. I’ll try. Of course I’ll try. But I registered now and I started paying my tuition so I need to at least do this semester. I…”_ He stops, takes a breath, and seems to wrestle with his own mind, if the silence on the other end of the line is any indication. Then, _“Okay, yeah. I’ll make it work_.”

Dean is going to hate him, but he can understand that in the long run this is for the greater good. Castiel cannot let him go, not now that he’s become so integral to the success of the Study.

“Great. Thank you, Dean. Really.”

“ _Yeah. Yeah, no problem. I, huh, I have to go_.”

“Of course. Good night, Dean.”

“ _Yeah. Night_.”

Dean hangs up, sounding distracted, and upset, and Castiel can’t ignore the weight that settled on his stomach.

But he can’t think about that, not now that he has a purpose again. He has his work cut out for him. Better get to it fast.


	14. October 1953

#  **October 1953**

As Dean steps out of the university’s library, he’s suddenly assaulted by the most violent gusts of wind. He has to take a step back before the paper he carefully worked on for the last three hours is blown out of his hands.

“What the—”

“Dean!”

His unhappy frown turns into a bright smile when he turns around and sees that Aaron is coming out of the library as well. He’s less happy to see two other guys from his biology class following close behind, but he tries not to show it too much. The majority of his fellow students already hate him enough, he’s not about to add anything more that they could hold against him.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound smooth.

Aaron smiles, eyeing the sheets of paper trying to escape from Dean’s grasp. “Working hard?”

“Uh, I try. What’s up?”

“We’re taking a dinner break at Martha’s, what d’you say?”

The two alphas are standing a bit apart, and one of them rolls his eyes. They don’t want Dean there, and as much as Dean appreciates Aaron trying to include him, he knows it’s never going to happen. But Aaron is young and idealistic, and either he doesn’t see that, as an omega, Dean won’t ever fit in or he purposely chooses to ignore it.

Anyway, even if Dean wanted to go, he can’t.

“Maybe another time,” he says with a regretful shrug, “I have stuff to do, and then I need to get my ass to work… you know how it is.”

Aaron nods, as if he knew how this conversation was going to end, but he doesn’t seem angry. At least there’s that. The two assholes look relieved, too.

“You work too much,” Aaron says as he walks away.

With a sigh, Dean watches him leave. Aaron is not the cutest guy there is, but he’s nice, and funny, and his ass looks amazing.

Of course, Dean’s not here for that. He needs to focus on his classes, because it’s only been a month of trying to reconcile classes and work, and he’s so, so tired. But he’s never felt more free in his life. It’s really strange. He’s… not happy, per se, but contented.

He doesn’t know what happiness is. He’s striving for it, but maybe it’s just a myth. Contented is good enough in his book.

For now.

He’s not sure it’s going to last, as he has an appointment with Cas in about twenty minutes. He’s really happy to see him, that much is true, but he’s also apprehensive. Who knows what the Doc is going to spring on him next?

Determined to not let Cas get the better of him again, he holds his paper tightly against his chest, and finally steps down to the campus grounds, opting to run to his car to avoid any chance of losing all his hard work to an unfortunate gust of wind.

The drive to the little restaurant they agreed to meet at is short. It does nothing to calm Dean’s nerves. His brain keep turning the same thoughts around, and he can’t focus on anything, not even when his favorite tune comes on the radio.

It’s not that he’s anxious about seeing Cas because Cas is not intimidating, not now, not after everything. It’s just that Dean is scared of his own reaction.

What if the bond between them is worse than they thought? He hasn’t had a heat in a while, so it might trigger one, a bigger one. What if Dean turns into one of those omegas who can’t string two words together in the presence of their alphas? What if none of that happens, but Dean still can’t manage to refuse Cas anything? What would that mean about him?

He shouldn’t try to guess what’s going to happen, because there’s no good in it anyway, but he can’t help it.

They haven’t seen each other since the day they were fired from Mercy’s. It’s been five months. Almost six. Too long. Dean doesn’t know how this is going to go. He doesn’t like it.

What if Cas wants Dean to quit school and start working full-time on the Study again? What if Dean can’t find it in himself to say ‘no’?

He has to sit for a little while inside his car, anyway, because he’s a bit early, and he doesn’t want to appear too eager by getting there first. He knows Cas doesn’t suffer any tardiness though, so, right on time, at precisely six thirty, he steps inside Jungle Jim’s with as much confidence as he can muster.

Cas is there, sitting smack in the middle of the diner, frowning at the menu, and Dean can’t help but smile at that. When he hears the bell above the door chime lightly, Cas looks up. He smiles too.

Dean waves at him and marches on. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable.

“Hi,” he says, somewhat awkwardly, and Cas’s nose scrunches up in that adorable way of his when he wants to smile but tries very hard to stay serious.

“Hello, Dean. It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, pulling out a chair and sitting, “it’s good to see you, too.”

“I hope you’re not too hungry,” Cas says, looking at the menu again. The frown comes back with a vengeance, “they’re out of bacon.”

He spits it out like it’s a total disgrace. Dean’s anxiety slowly gets replaced with amusement.

“We’ll survive. I think.” It’s just really strange to be sitting here. It almost feels like they were just working together yesterday, and, at the same time, like the six months that just passed were actually six years. It’s hard to find something to say. “So, um, how have you been?”

Cas seems surprised by the question, but only for a second. “Well. As well as can be, considering my circumstances…”

So his job is still shitty.

“What about the charity events?” Dean asks, going straight to the point.

The corners of Cas’s lips twitch in displeasure. “I thought we could take a moment to catch up before we talk about work.”

“I’d rather we talk about work and get it over with, then we can chit-chat.”

Cas studies him for a moment, before nodding. “Fine. I don’t have anything just yet, so I don’t have much to say.”

“I thought you’d found something?”

Cas hesitates, “I did. But it didn’t pan out.”

He busies himself with his menu again, eyes darting suspiciously fast between the items, and Dean has a sudden realization. “You didn’t have anything.”

“Hm?” Cas looks up.

“You haven’t looked for any event. Have you?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Of course I—”

“Cas!” Dean snaps through gritted teeth.

The waitress looks their way, a scowl on her face. He ignores her.

“Why would I call you if I didn’t have anything, hm?” Cas asks, putting the menu down. “I told you, Zachariah made sure that everybody knew I was a pervert. Do you know how difficult it’s been trying to even get a job?”

This gives Dean pause. He doesn’t know why he’s on edge like this, he shouldn’t be, but they haven’t seen each other in so long that everything feels weird. He doesn’t trust himself. Does that mean he shouldn’t trust Cas as well?

“Okay,” he breathes out.

Cas squints at him. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m just tired. Stressed. My hands are full, alright? As much as I like working with you, I’m enjoying what I’m doing now, and the more I’ll have to study, the less time I’ll have to help you.” He looks up from under his eyelashes, giving Cas a pleading look. “I hope you can understand that.”

Something seems to be eating at Cas. His lips pinch into a thin line, before he exhales whatever tension he was holding in.

“I do. How is it going, by the way?”

Dean shrugs, “Fine so far. Not sure I can keep up with it, but we’ll see.”

“Of course you can,” Cas says, and his features soften. “If you managed to keep up with me, I believe you can keep up with anyone and anything.”

Dean ignores the remark. It warms him inside, for just a second, but he doesn’t know how to react. Instead, he sighs, eyes roaming around for something to land on, anything to give him an idea of what to talk about next, as long as it doesn’t involve him.

“So,” he takes the menu from under Cas’s hands, “what’s good here?”

Cas shakes his head, clearly not impressed by Dean trying to change the subject. Thankfully, he doesn’t push.

“Well I like their bacon special, but…” he trails off.

“Right.” With another sigh, Dean waves the waitress over, who slowly walks to them.

They order without much enthusiasm. Dean doesn’t know if it’s because of him, because he’s feeling irritable and short-tempered and Cas felt it, or if it’s just because it’s been too long and they don’t know what to say to each other.

Maybe it’s just that Cas is realizing how dull their relationship is when they’re not working.

“So, tell me,” Cas says as they wait for their burgers, folding his fingers under his chin, “what is your favorite class so far?”

Surprised, Dean blinks at him. Cas seems very interested in what Dean is going to say, earnest as he is when he’s working. He seems sincere, at least.

Dean relaxes. “I, uh, I don’t know that I have a favorite, but… I have an intro to psychology class that’s pretty neat.” He shrugs. “Obviously, nobody else but me likes this one, but, you know. It’s interesting.”

“Did you make new friends?”

Dean huffs, “I’m not a child, Cas.”

“I’m just asking,” Cas says, tilting his head on the side. “I’m just trying to know what happened while we were apart.”

“Like you care what I’ve been up to,” Dean answers with a bitterness that surprises even him.

He shouldn’t have agreed to come, he’s too tired for this.

“I do care,” Cas says. “Why is it so difficult to accept?”

God, where’s that waitress?

“I don’t know,” Dean lets out.

“That helps.”

“I mean you’re you. And I’m me. People like you aren’t supposed to be interested in people like me.”

Cas frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Frustrated, Dean leans back against his chair. He doesn’t know how to explain how he feels, and why this is all going nowhere and he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Nevermind. I just—I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I’m uncomfortable. I don’t know why you insist on talking about me. This is not interesting.” _I’m not interesting_.

Cas takes a second to mull it over, as if this is important. He licks his lips before he answers.

“I miss our little chats. It’s one thing I don’t have where I work now. Someone to take my mind off things, sometimes to challenge me, put me back in my place. Despite what you might think, you’ are that person, Dean. And this is very interesting to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean shrugs again to hide his discomfort, “once you get a new assistant, you’ll have that again.”

Cas shakes his head. “I don’t miss having an assistant. I miss you in particular. It’s…” He stops, lets out a breath. “The reason I wanted us to see each other and talk about work is less about the Study and more about the—our partnership.”

Dean has no idea where Cas is going with this. So he stares, until Cas goes on.

“There is no Study without you, I hope you realize that.”

The only reason Dean doesn’t look away or talk this time is because he’s trying really hard to prevent the heat he can feel in his insides from creeping up to his cheeks.

This is nice and all, flattering, really, but Dean knows Cas, and he knows that he believes what he’s saying in the moment, but as soon as someone competent shows up to take Dean’s place, the sentiment will be forgotten.

Of course he’s not going to say that out loud, because if he did Cas would keep complimenting him with empty phrases, and Dean doesn’t want to hear it.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean says, trying to hide his annoyance, “thank, Cas.”

It works. Cas smiles. “You’re very welcome.”

God, why is Dean so annoyed? He feels so out of his depth here, when he shouldn’t. With Cas, everything has always been easy. That’s exactly what he feared would happen before coming here. Outside the lab, their relationship is not working as it should be. And it leaves Dean alone and lost, here, at home, at school, at work.

Cas was supposed to be his safe haven.

As the waitress finally arrives with their burgers, Dean finds himself suddenly thinking of Aaron. He thinks of Martha’s dinner, and how much fun he would be having if he’d ditched Cas to go hang out with Aaron and his friends instead.

Granted, Dean would’ve been mildly uncomfortable surrounded by Alphas, but at least they’d have things to talk about. And they wouldn’t be talking about how great Dean is.

He could’ve flirted with Aaron as well, which is one of his favorite activities these days. Aaron always answers in kind. Dean doesn’t know if he’s really interested, or if he only indulges Dean, but Dean’s okay with it even if it was the latter.

He doesn’t think it’s the case, though. There’s something there, something that could go a lot further, Dean is almost sure of it. It could turn into something real, and, unlike with Cas, Dean wouldn’t have to pretend he doesn’t feel anything just to accommodate Aaron.

Idly, he wonders if Aaron would surprise him as much as Cas did in bed. Aaron seems like a nice guy, mild-mannered, polite. Dean’s never heard a single tasteless joke out of his mouth, unlike his friends. Aaron comes from a reputable family, so he has an image to cultivate, but he feels honest. True. He doesn’t strike Dean as someone who would be wild in bed, but Cas didn’t either. At first, Cas was a sexless robot in Dean’s eyes.

He’s always had that commanding spark in him though, that turns into assurance between the sheets. Aaron is very self-assured. Dean wonders how it would translate.

“You’re not eating?” Cas asks.

And Dean is suddenly aware of his surrounding again. “Uh, sorry. I was somewhere else.”

Cas tilts his head on the side again, curious. “Where?”

Dean’s not about to tell him the truth. “School. I have a paper to hand in soon, I was thinking about something. You know how it is.”

“Unfortunately, I do.” Cas’s smile turns warmer. “And I don’t miss it.”

“Heh, it’s fine. Really interesting, so it makes up for the hassle.”

“What about work?” Cas asks, popping a fry into his mouth. “How are you reconciling the two?”

Dean’s stomach growls at the sight. He tries his own fries as well. “I don’t sleep much,” he answers around a mouthful. “So I’m tired all the time, but so far it’s been manageable.”

Cas hums. His eyes dart to his plate, only to come back to Dean and down again in rapid succession.

“Please, don’t take this the wrong way,” he starts, leaning against the table, “but I want to ask you something I’m curious about, both on a personal and professional level. And I know it might come out of nowhere, but please humor me.”

Dean clears his throat. “Okay…”

“What about your heats?”

And here comes the wave of heated embarrassment, running up along Dean’s body. Cas is very serious though. He’s waiting for a real answer.

Dean gets it. Cas wants to study the impact of their bond. He could’ve chosen another place to do it, is all.

“Didn’t have one yet, but it should come soon.”

Cas nods to himself, humming. “Any pain?”

“Nope.”

“Not even during intercourse?”

Dean lets out an uncomfortable breath. “Haven’t had an occasion to test that.”

Cas stares, like he’s suddenly thinking about something.

Dean doesn’t see why he should be the only one to suffer the indignity of being interrogated in public about his sex life. So he straightens up, and takes the same tone as Cas. “What about you? Any discomfort during sex? Loss of control, maybe?”

Cas dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, “No. My marital habits aren’t adventurous enough that it could happen. Dean. You’re saying you haven’t had a heat since January?”

Dean opens his mouth to answer, a resounding ‘yes, and?’ on the tip of his tongue, until he realizes that it’s true. _He hasn’t had a heat since January_. Six months between two heats is the most you can go without it being bad news. After that, there’s something wrong. He knows this. Even more so since he’s been working with Cas.

How did he not realize it before this?

“Shit,” he lets out. “Yeah, I… I didn’t think about it. But, yeah, no, I didn’t.”

Before his brain can come up with deadly conclusions, Cas speaks. “Try to track down your usual pre-menstrual symptoms. See if they’re there. It’s not normal, for sure, but it can happen. It doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something wrong with your body.”

“Okay.”

“Sometimes it’s just stress and lack of sleep and, well…” he relaxes, giving Dean a pointed look.

“Yeah,” Dean lets out in a half-laugh.

“Just… pay attention for the next week and call me back, okay? And if there’re no symptoms still, I’ll examine you.”

Dean huffs. “I don’t need you as a doctor, Cas.”

“Do you have a gynecologist?”

“No.”

“Then now you do,” Cas concludes, picking up his burger. “You need to be monitored, especially with the scent bond. And since it, uh, shouldn’t come out that we did bond this way, it’s better if I take care of your follow-ups.”

He takes a bite.

Dean raises an eyebrow at him.

So that’s how it’s going to be, huh? Dean doesn’t understand how he can still be surprised by Cas’s assertiveness.

“Guess I don’t have a choice,” he shrugs.

“Not when it comes to your health, no,” Cas replies after swallowing. “Since you won’t take care of yourself, someone has to do it for you.”

 _I don’t need anyone to take care of me_ , his brain supplies. He keeps his mouth shut. Or rather, he only opens it to cram his burger into it. He doesn’t have a lot of time left if he wants to go home and shower before work.

So he eats, and he mostly avoids looking at Cas, because as much as he digs inside his noggin’, he can’t for the life of him find something to say. It feels bitter, and disappointing, but they truly don’t have anything to say to each other outside of the Study.

He wishes he hadn’t come. He wants to go back in time and still believe he could have something with Cas, not just a stupid scent bond that now makes Cas think he has to keep Dean under surveillance.

“You seem preoccupied,” Cas says after a while, thoughtful.

Dean clears his throat, “Yeah. Like I said, I have a lot on my mind.”

“Okay. I just figured… we would’ve had a lot more to talk about,” Cas tentatively answers.

Dean gives him a pointed look. “I’m at work most nights and on the weekends, and I’m in class or doing homework during the day, and the remaining three or four hours I can scrape for myself I spend sleeping. I don’t have time for a social life. I don’t even have time to think about something other than work or school. I’m sorry that this is disappointing for you but I don’t have much to say.”

Cas presses his lips together. “I’m not disappointed. I know how it is, I’ve been there. I just thought you’d be eager to talk about your classes with someone who knows what it’s like, that’s all.”

Truth is, Dean knows he’s late in every single one of his classes. Work is taking a lot of his time too, and his resolution is starting to slip away. Some days, he doesn’t even bother waking up early anymore. He has two weeks’ worth of notes to catch up to, there’s three books on his syllabus he hasn’t even borrowed yet because he still has four others he’s trying to go through.

He knew it would be hard, but he didn’t think it would be this hard. He’s pretty sure he’s failing his semester. And he absolutely does not want Cas to know that.

“I wouldn’t say I’m eager,” he concedes with a sigh. “But I’m… happy with what I’m learning. It’s just a lot. And I know you can’t conceive that people want to talk about something other than what they’re working on, but I already spend so much time thinking about school that… I don’t want to bring that up outside of it. It’s nothing against you.”

Cas nods, thoughtful. “I can understand that. Maybe you can tell me about Sam, then. How is it going for him? Is he happy?”

Jesus, Dean does not want to talk.

Not that he doesn’t appreciate the effort that Cas is making there, but he’s tired, he hasn’t been home in twelve hours and he probably won’t spend more than thirty minutes there – if he hurries – until going to work for another six hours. All he wants is to take his dessert to go and eat it on his couch. Spend a bit of time in his own home, even if it only lasts half an hour.

“He’s good,” he finally says. “Happy. Bit tired but he’s made lots of friends already, the customers at his job love him, and there’s this girl he likes a lot, so things are going great.”

Cas smiles. “That’s great. Is he coming back for Christmas?”

“Nah. He has to work. He won’t be able to visit until the summer.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Cas hesitates, God knows why, “I’m sorry. But I’m glad he’s happy. He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “He is.”

For the first time since he arrived, his shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches. The annoyance has dissipated as he ate, only leaving exhaustion and sadness in its trail.

But speaking about Sam always helps lift his mood a little. Even if Dean misses him so much it physically hurts.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Now’s not the time to get a stress-headache. “It was nice seeing you, but I really need to get going.”

Cas looks surprised. He takes a peek at his watch and nods. “Of course. Can we do this again?”

Dean waves the waitress for the check, he’s barely listening. “Hm?”

“We still need to figure out what we’re going to do to raise funds.”

“Right. Well, call me when you want to get together, okay?”

He stands, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and rummaging around its pocket for his wallet.

“Oh, no,” Castiel says, pushing away from his chair. “I invited you. I’m paying.”

Dean freezes. “This isn’t… this isn’t a date, Cas.”

“Of course not,” Cas nods. “But you look like you’re in a hurry, and you’re clearly… not in a great mood. I just want to do something nice for you.”

Dean hesitates, but Cas has a point. He is in a hurry. So much so that he’s giving up his dessert, which says something about how tired he is.

“Fine,” he breathes out. “Thanks.”

“See you soon?”

“Uhm,” Dean flings the jacket around his shoulders, making quick work of putting it on and turning the collar up around his neck. It still looks windy as hell out. “Sure. See ya.”

He’s never walked so fast in his life. As he finally sits in his car, he wonders what just happened.

They had a great time on the phone. Why was it so awkward in person? Why was Dean feeling so... antsy? Is it because even now, even when Dean is tired and annoyed at Cas he still wants Cas to fuck him, put his hands on him? These are things Dean can’t have. He knows it.

Cas wouldn’t mind them having sex again. The thing is, Dean’s not sure if they keep doing it again and again, that he’ll be able to stop when Cas finally decides he’s tired of Dean.

Dean wouldn’t handle that well.

Yeah, it’s probably that. He’s mostly annoyed at himself, at his biology. He often feels helpless when it comes to Cas. He’s sure the scent bond doesn’t help.

Of course, the fact that he hasn’t had a heat in eight months has a part in it. It’s bound to be fucking with his hormones and make him short-tempered.

It’s fine. Cas is not worried about it. So, Dean’s gonna go home, take a hot shower, go to work and help himself to a nice glass of Jack.

Things will be okay.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Dean! Hey, Dean!”

Dean turns around to wait for Aaron. He doesn’t usually linger after class, and judging by the way his classmates are looking at him as they get out of the classroom he’s right not to.

Aaron is his only weakness. His only friend.

In here, he reminds himself. He should really call Charlie and Ash when he finds the time.

Aaron saunters toward him, giving him a once over once he reaches him.

“You look like crap.”

Dean huffs, “Thanks.”

With a laugh, Aaron wraps his arm around Dean’s shoulders and walks him toward the exit.

“You need to take a night off.”

“I’m fine.”

“The bags under your eyes have bags. Come on, if you want to be a doctor you need to take care of yourself first. You know sleep is important, right?”

“Thanks for the pep-talk,” Dean sighs, pushing Aaron’s arm away. “But I’m good.”

Aaron hums. “Sure. And you can’t come out tonight either ‘cause you have to get to work ASAP, right?”

Dean keeps walking. He doesn’t look at Aaron because he doesn’t want to see his face when Dean tells him he’s been fired. He could lie, of course, but he’s too tired and frankly too sad to put in the effort.

“No. I’m not working tonight.”

Or, well. Maybe he’s more ashamed than tired.

Aaron gasps. “A miracle! So you’re coming?”

“No.”

“You said you were fine, you can’t tell me you’re tired and bail.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

They’re still surrounded by students as they followed the crowd after class, so Dean stops on the side of the corridor, makes himself small in a corner near a wall, and waits.

Aaron stops too, waving at his friends to go on without him.

When Dean dares to look him in the eye, Aaron’s smile slowly fades, replaced by a worried frown.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” he whispers, coming closer so they won’t be heard by the last few stragglers.

Of course, they still stare at Dean and Aaron standing too close to each other, one of them raising a mocking eyebrow at and leaning toward his friend to whisper something in her ear. They laugh.

“Nothing bad,” Dean answers, tearing his eyes away from them. “I just… I need to find another job, that’s all.”

Aaron’s eyes grow wide. It would almost be funny if Dean felt like laughing, considering that Aaron’s never had to work a day in his life. For anything.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron simply says.

Dean deflates. Maybe he’s being unfair. Aaron is compassionate, despite the way he was raised. Dean’s so used to being berated, used to Cas who always tries to kick Dean into action no matter what, that he now expects it from everyone.

But not Aaron. Aaron just gives him time to be defeated, to digest the problem. He says ‘sorry’ and he means it, and there’s nothing implied in the word. No ‘ifs’, no ‘buts’, just compassion. And his presence.

“I just…” Dean shrugs. “I don’t want to go out because I don’t know how long it will take for me to find another job and I need to be careful with my money, alright? I would love to, but I need to be reasonable.”

Aaron sighs and leans against the wall behind them, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“My treat, then.”

“No,” Dean protests. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not asking for charity, here.”

“Good, cause that’s not what I’m offering. I’m being selfish,” he insists with a small smile when Dean shakes his head. “I want to party. And I want to see you drunk. You’re always so proper—”

Dean lets out a laugh, “Me?”

“Always so serious. That’s how people see you, you know? That’s why my friends are a bit unhappy when I invite you. They think you’re a spoilsport.”

Dean rests against the wall as well, and stares, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the grin that’s trying to come out despite his sour mood.

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron nods, and lifts a brow, “I would want to prove them wrong if I were you.”

Dean looks down. “Are they gonna be there?”

“That depends.”

“On what.”

“On if you’re comfortable with them being there.”

“But then how would I prove them wrong if it’s just the two of us?”

He looks up again. Aaron is still smiling.

“Well, I need to _make sure_ that you’re not really a spoilsport.”

“Right,” Dean scoffs, “that’s very sensible of you.”

“Hm-hm.”

Aaron’s smile pulls at the corner of his lips, growing bigger as he stares at Dean’s face. His eyes drop to Dean’s lips for a second before coming up again. “So. Are you coming?”

Dean considers him. He considers the hours he would spend reading about arteries if he went home right now, because he has a paper to write and hand in three days from now, and he hasn’t started it yet.

He can’t really afford to skip on those hours, especially not with the state his studies are in these days.

But it all sounds so sad, and he misses the night life already. He really wants to forget about his problems, just for a little while.

Aaron is offering to pay for his drinks. His evening is free, God knows when that will happen again, and tomorrow is a Saturday. He can study then.

Really, he has no excuse.

He doesn’t want to find an excuse.

Dean smiles. He nods.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean slams his whole body into the booth, laughing so hard his abs are hurting. He’s sweating like a pig from dancing for so long, the music is loud and he can barely hear himself, but he hasn’t felt this good in what feels like months. 

Aaron follows, crashing into him, cackling like a madman.

“Shit! That was the best come-back I’ve ever witnessed!”

Dean shrugs, trying to play it cool. He reaches for his drink. “Not th’ first Knothead who’s tried to shame me into sleeping with him.”

“Still, that was cold.”

Dean giggles. _Giggles_. He needs to stop drinking.

“Practice makes perfect.”

This sends Aaron into another laughing fit. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Dean counters, downing his drink.

They stare at each other, laughing like idiots.

They’re both drunk, Dean’s even slightly dizzy since he doesn’t hold his liquor as well as he used to before he started working for Cas. But he hasn’t been to a bar as a customer for… God. He doesn’t even know how long.

He’s happy.

And he’s excited, relaxed, and Aaron is leaning toward him, gaze zoning in on Dean’s lips as he licks his own in preparation.

Dean exhales.

He lets it happen. He lets Aaron crash their lips together, and gently opening Dean’s mouth with his tongue.

Aaron smells good. His mouth is… strong, for lack of a better word. He’s very sure of himself, but gentle at the same time. It emboldens Dean, reminds him how fun this could be.

He blindly reaches for Aaron’s shoulder but only manages to firmly grab a fistful of shirt.

Aaron chuckles into his mouth and decides to playfully chew at Dean’s lower lip.

Dean hums.

Fuck, that feels good.

There’s no lab, no harsh light, no instrument, no monitoring his physiological responses. It’s just him, and Aaron – And a bar full of drunk people, but Dean couldn’t care less.

Shit, he’s even leaking all over himself already. He’s missed the feeling.

“Slut!” Someone yells in their direction.

Dean pulls away, breathless but alert.

When he looks around, looking for the owner of the voice, he sees the Knothead who tried to grope him earlier staring at him from afar, surrounded by other people and pointing at him.

It’s like a bucket of water has just been dumped on his head. His mood immediately sours, and he lets go of Aaron, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“Dean…”

Dean clears his throat and shifts slightly away from him.

Why the fuck does it affect him that much? He was proud of being a sexual person before. With Benny, he loved being called a slut.

He’s never been called that by a stranger though. He’s been so used to people criticizing him for not having enough brains, or not being qualified enough that he forgot some people could look at him and choose to criticize him based on his biology.

To him, sex is just another function of the body. Dean almost forgot it wasn’t for most people.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Aaron asks.

He’s staring down at the Knothead. It almost looks like they’re having an Alpha off or something.

Of course Dean wants to get out of here.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Please.”

He’s getting hot under the collar, heat crashing up his face in waves. His stomach seems to be rejecting all the alcohol he’s drunk tonight. Holding it in is proving more and more difficult.

Lucky for him, Aaron doesn’t seem to feel as bad. He takes Dean by the arm, grabs their jackets, and guides Dean outside.

The freezing cold hits Dean like a slap in the face, but it does a good job of waking him up from his drunken stupor.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Aaron helps him with his jacket, squeezing his shoulders reassuringly when he’s done. “Are you okay?”

“Uh,” Dean answers, inhaling the cold air in an attempt to push down the nausea. “I think so. I just had one too many.”

Aaron huffs a small laugh. “Yeah. I might have, too. You can take a lot more than I thought.”

He bumps into Dean playfully and stays in his space, sharing his body heat. Dean sways slightly against him. He’s not going to fall, but he’s still not sure he can walk a straight line.

“I don’t think we should drive back.”

“Well,” Aaron shrugs, “I don’t know if you live far but my place is nearby. Five minutes away from here, actually. On foot.”

Dean gives him a quizzical look.

“That’s why I come to this bar when I want to, uhm, indulge,” Aaron explains. “Cause it’s close.”

“Makes sense,” Dean nods.

A year ago, he would’ve thought that was amazing. He would’ve led the way, flirting and teasing the whole time, would’ve let Aaron fuck him hard and rough against the door ‘cause he would’ve barely let him close it once they got there before he’d have jumped him.

Today he’s not sure he wants that. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him.

“What do you think, then?” Aaron asks. “My place or yours?”

And yeah, hearing that makes Dean’s cock stir inside his slacks despite the cold, but there’s also an uneasy feeling that grips his chest at the words, and it won’t go away.

“Um, I’m not sure we should… do anything that we might regret.”

Aaron raises his hands in the air, “I’m not suggesting anything—”

“No. No, I know, just…” Dean sighs. Dammit, why is he arguing? He could be getting it right now. It’s been so long, and he really needs the relief, but somehow this doesn’t seem appealing. At all. He likes Aaron, what is wrong with him? “I just want to go home and crash,” he finishes. “Alone. Nothin’ against you, but I’m just—”

“No. It’s fine, Dean, I get it.”

Dean stares at him, and he tries to find the lie on his face. But there’s nothing. He means it.

“Thanks,” he says, relaxing a little.

“So you’re gonna walk home alone? At this hour?”

Dean’s not eager at the prospect but he knows he can defend himself. He’s done it before. More than once.

“It’s not that far.”

“Where do you live?”

“I’m fine, Aaron.” 

“Where do you live, Dean?”

Dean sighs again. He bites his lips. “Flemings.”

Aaron shakes his head. “You’re not walking all the way over there in your state.”

“I’ve done it before, I’m okay.”

“Let me call you a cab at least.”

“I don’t want you to pay for a cab, I’m perfectly capable of—”

“Dean,” Aaron interrupts, catching both Dean’s hands in his as Dean was gesturing around. “Please. We’ve had a great night. Let me do this one last thing so I can feel good about how it ended.”

He rubs his thumbs on the back of Dean’s hands. A shiver runs up Dean’s spine.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Okay, call it. Before I change my mind.”

Aaron smiles. He leans over, snatches a quick kiss before dragging Dean toward the bar to borrow their phone. Dean follows.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean drags his exhausted, drunk ass up the stairs to his apartment, and he’s suddenly very grateful to Aaron for the cab, because even the short walk to his place is proving difficult.

He’s tired, but he also feels wired, like he forgot to do something, doesn’t know what it is, and his brain’s trying to tell him without managing to reach him. Even sitting still in the cab had been difficult.

When he reaches his door, opening it also proves difficult. He drops his keys twice, and once he manages to get a good grip on them, his hands are shaking so much it takes him five actual minutes before he succeeds in sliding them home.

“Come on,” he mutters to himself. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Finally, with a satisfying ‘click’, the door unlocks, and Dean’s home. He doesn’t even try to lock the door behind him, just throwing the keys haphazardly on the kitchen counter. He undresses quickly, scattering clothes all over the apartment before ending face down on the bed.

Content, he hums, and he barely has time to think that it feels great to finally be laying down before he passes out from the alcohol and the exhaustion.

A couple of hours later, he wakes up covered in sweat, barely conscious but already running to the toilets to throw up everything he ever ate ever.

It seems to take a lifetime. When he’s done, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and notices he’s shaking. He looks at his trembling hands, and suddenly he’s dizzy. His heart seems to have trouble beating in a constant rhythm. Heat seems to burst from his lower belly and up to his face, and he has to sit back against the sink and hold on to its edge with everything he has because _the whole room is spinning._

He feels like he’s dying.

All he can do is breathe in and out of his mouth like he’s about to give birth. He doesn’t know how long he sits there on his bathroom floor, but when the weird nausea stuck in his throat and the waves of heat finally disappear, he’s wide awake.

His skin is clammy, cold to the touch, and there’s an uncomfortable pressure in his lower belly.

“Oh, fuck…” he mutters.

He’s pretty sure the heat he missed decided to start the show, finally. He’s half-relieved, half-worried at how strong it’s hitting. There’s a bit of apprehension, too. He’s scared it will be as painful, if not more, as last time.

But he can manage.

All he has to do is stay alert enough until Monday comes so he can call the school, explain he won’t be there for a week, and then ride the wave as best as he can.

It occurs to him that if he hadn’t lost his job two days ago because he snapped at a patron, he would’ve definitely lost it because of this.

His boss never would’ve let him miss a night’s work, even if it was because of his health.

“Come on, Dean,” he breathes to himself.

There’s no pressing need to orgasm just yet, just a bit of pain. He gets up – with difficulty, because he’s pretty sure he’s still drunk – and shuffles to the kitchen. He drinks two glasses of water, takes the pack of toaster bread out, the peanut butter and jam too, a knife, prepares some coffee, and while it brews he brushes his teeth.

With that done, he finds a vial of Tylenol, an empty glass bottle that he fills with water, and sets them up near his bed.

Once everything is ready, all he has left to do is to take an ibuprofen – for cramps – and go back to sleep.

He’s gonna need to rest for the next few days.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Alright. Thank you,” Dean says through greeted teeth into the receiver of his phone. “Yes. I’ll call you on Friday if I can. Thanks… yeah, you too.”

He hangs up harder than he would’ve liked, but he can’t stand the pain anymore. Crumbling to the floor, he lets out a dry, desperate sob.

His whole body hurts, his channel feels empty, and he almost can’t touch his cock anymore. He’s masturbated so much over the weekend that the action doesn’t hold any meaning anymore.

Fuck Cas and his fucking scent bond, Dean can’t take it anymore. Waves of cramps keep assaulting him, and he can’t find relief, no matter what he tries: hot packs, ice cubes in bath gloves, buckets of ibuprofen and Tylenol, massaging his stomach and back, all of that at the same time. Nothing’s working against the pain, and it’s only Monday morning.

He won’t survive a whole week of this.

And what if he becomes delirious again and forget to take care of himself? That could be very dangerous.

Just calling the school – and it only took him five minutes – left him exhausted and crying on the kitchen floor.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Or rather, yes, he knows what he should do, but it’s exactly what he doesn’t want. He doesn’t really have a choice, though, does he?

He has to call Cas.

Maybe the scent therapy or whatever he calls what he did last time will be enough to relieve the pain.

Dean briefly entertains the idea of calling Aaron, but dismisses it as quickly as it comes.

First, because they don’t know each other well enough to be at the level of intimacy where Dean would invite him to spend a heat with him. Second, no couple’s first time together should be during a heat. That’s just wrong and often leads to weird, unhealthy relationships – also thinking about it, Dean should put a word out to Cas about it, see if there’s any truth to that preconceived idea.

And third, Aaron’s not Cas.

He wouldn’t appease Dean’s pain, or at least Dean doesn’t think he could. Plus, Cas is an actual doctor. If Dean has to put his health in someone’s hands, he’s rather it be Cas’s.

And anyway, Aaron’s probably in class, and Dean doesn’t have the number to his landline if he isn’t. He’s not about to call the school’s desk to ask Aaron to come fuck him through his heat.

His body seems to like the idea, though. His ass throbs at the thought, a fresh wave of slick coming out of him. The need to touch himself is slowly building again.

It’s not strong enough for him to do anything about, but it soon will be.

God, he doesn’t want to see Cas after their disastrous meal together, especially not under these circumstances. But again, he doesn’t really have a choice.

And he wants Cas. So bad. He’s tired of fighting with himself on this.

Cas is a fucking sex god, God knows how, and Dean wants him. He has to call him.

His body agrees with the idea whole-heartedly, an erection already swelling inside his pants, taunting the abused skin around his cock. Dean lets out a whine. “Dammit…”

Wiping his eyes, he pushes up and grabs the receiver, dialing Cas’s home number as quick as possible, before collapsing on the floor again. The cord is taut against the kitchen counter, so he tries not to move too much while it rings, so he won’t damage it.

“ _Novak’s residence, Amelia speaking_.”

Shit. Of course Amelia’s the one answering the phone, Cas is probably at work. _Shit!_

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Uh, yeah, hi Amelia.”

“ _Dean! What a nice surprise!”_

“Yeah,” he huffs a fake laugh.

“ _It’s been so long! How you’ve been?_ ”

The pain is dizzying. He needs another ibuprofen. Maybe a shower. Sometimes the hot water makes him feel a little better.

“Okay, you know.”

“ _Cassie tells me you’re studying to be a doctor!_ ”

She sounds so excited, he can’t help but let out a laugh. Weak, but real this time.

“I don’t think I want to be a doctor, but at least I’m keeping my brain in shape for when we can start working on the Study again.”

Amelia hums, not entirely convinced. “ _In any case, I think you’d make a great doctor_.”

Dean misses her, suddenly. He wishes circumstances were different, so they could be actual friends without Dean feeling guilty every time he talks to her.

“Thanks,” he breathes, still not sure how to react when confronted to a sincere compliment. “Speaking of doctors… do you—” He has to stop, a particularly vicious cramp sending a brief flash of pain through his lower body. “Um, do you know where I can get a hold of Cas?”

There’s a second of silence. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

“Uh, not really,” Dean answers, touched by the concern he can hear in her voice.

“ _What happened? Do you—do you need me to drive you to the hospital? I can_ —”

“No, no, Amelia, it’s not that bad, just…” he sighs. “It’s a bit bad. But, mostly, it’s, uh, it’s really awkward, and I really don’t know how to start explaining this to you…”

“ _You know I would never judge you, Dean. We’re friends_.”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of.”

“ _Then what?_ ”

“There’s no chance you could call Cas or give me his secretary’s number without knowing why, I’m guessing…”

Amelia laughs. “ _No. None at all_.”

Dean sighs again. He’s hurting, but there’s no way he’s going to use that to bypass Amelia. If Cas is going to help him, there’s a good chance he’ll have to spend a good part of the week with Dean. And if Sam was able to smell Cas on Dean when they were just fucking a couple hours at night, there’s no way she won’t be able to smell Dean – the smell of his _heat_ – on Cas after a week.

So, in a way, he wants her to know what’s happening. To an extent.

“Okay,” he lets out. “Cas, uh, kind of insisted that I take him as my doctor, because he says I don’t take care of myself.”

Amelia huffs, “ _Sounds like him_.”

“Yeah. And I said ‘yes’ because besides the regular check-ups – that I haven’t done in years, by the way – I knew I wasn’t going to need him that much, if at all, you know? I figured, if it makes him feel better and gets him off my back, then that’s great.”

“ _Yeah._ ”

“But I’m having a problem right now. And I really, really need him.”

“ _Is it that bad?_ ”

For the first time, Amelia sounds… not suspicious, but at least confused. Wary. “ _He’s your boss. Aren’t you scared it would make your work relationship strenuous if he really becomes your doctor?_ ”

This is everything Dean never wanted to hear come out of her mouth.

“I know. I’m scared of that too, but I’m hurting really bad, and um… God.” This is where he’s going to have to lie, isn’t he? “What I’m about to tell you could really compromise the whole Study, so I’m gonna have to ask you to keep that to yourself. Forget I even told you. It’s very important that this doesn’t get out.”

Amelia hesitates, but Dean is pretty sure he can hear curiosity in her voice when she answers, “ _Okay. I promise I won’t say anything_.”

He closes his eyes briefly to brace against the pain before he goes on.

“I participated in the Study. Just me, not Cas. At the very beginning, when we didn’t have enough participants.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line.

“And the, um, person I participated with is long gone, but it did something to me, I guess.”

“ _What do you mean?_ ”

“We, ah,” he sighs. “Cas doesn’t know how it happened, but we developed a scent bond. You can imagine how problematic that is. Not so much for the other person because apparently he’s not affected but, um, for me it’s been hell.”

“ _A scent bond? Is that even possible?_ ”

“Cas thinks so, yeah.”

Dean lets her digest the information, but he’s not sure how much longer he can wait.

“ _That means Cassie saw you naked_ ,” Amelia says.

Dean was not expecting that.

“Yes. I’m—I’m sorry. We really didn’t have a choice. I mean, if I’m honest, I didn’t want to do it, but you know how Cas is.”

He hears her move slightly. She lets out a breath. “ _I—I honestly don’t know how to react to that. But I guess we can talk about it when you feel better. What do you need?_ ”

Relief that he wasn’t expecting to feel flows through him.

“My heat is killing me this time. Usually Cas gives me pills to help with the hormone imbalance and everything, but I haven’t seen him in a while and I don’t have those anymore. Last time I got a heat I lost consciousness, I don’t remember what happened but I know he came and helped Sam nursing me back to health. Except this time I’m alone.” He clears his throat, hesitates again. “And I’m scared.”

Amelia hums.

“I just need him to give me the pills and… tell me I’ll be okay. I can manage the rest.”

He’s hoping she’ll tell him that of course Cas can come stay the whole week and help him, but she sounds cold now, so Dean keeps his hope to himself. He knows that won’t happen.

“ _Alright_ ,” she finally says. “ _I’ll call Cassie and pass the message along. But he has some important surgery today, so he might not be available until tonight. You’re going to be okay?_ ”

Dean tries for levity. He doesn’t want to piss her off. “I made it ‘til now. I can wait a few hours.”


	15. Late October 1953

#  **Late October 1953**

Of course, Cas didn’t wait.

He cancelled his surgery and was at Dean’s door an hour after Dean’s phone call to Amelia.

Now he’s crouching in front of Dean, pulling on his lower eyelid and looking his usual serious self.

“I understand you’re in pain, but so far there’s nothing telling me you’re in danger,” he says as he helps Dean up.

They slowly make their way to the couch.

“Okay,” Dean manages.

He’s only half-listening, too focused on sitting down when they finally reach it. He’s hurting too much, and he wants to touch himself really, really badly, but even with the loose fabric of his sweat pants, his cock is throbbing with pain.

“I want to examine you,” Cas goes on, kneeling in front of him, “but why don’t you take a shower first, hm?”

Dean huffs. “Do I smell that bad?”

“No. I just think it will make you feel better. I’ll let you relieve yourself while I shower as well, and then we’ll take a look to see if you hurt yourself or if it’s just heat pains.”

Dean nods. Truth is, he already feels less anxious now that Cas is here. He doesn’t know if he could’ve held on until the evening.

“I had to tell Amelia I participated in the Study,” he blurts out.

Cas stops moving. He stares at Dean with his mouth firmly closed.

“I had to explain why I needed you in particular,” Dean tries to explain. “But I just said I participated, not you. I said if it got out it could ruin the Study.”

“Well, that’s the truth.”

“I know. But I don’t think she’ll say anything. She just…” Dean bites on his lower lip. Cas’s eyes follow the movement. “She wasn’t happy because that means you saw me naked. And in action.”

Cas sighs. “And you’re telling me this, why?”

“Well, she might give you an earful tonight. At least you know what to expect.”

Humming, Cas nudges at Dean until he moves and lets Cas sit next to him. “Thank you, but we need to take care of you before I can go home and have a fight with my wife.”

Yeah, Dean definitely doesn’t want to talk about that further. He pushes away from the couch, albeit slowly and a bit awkwardly. He’s still shaking.

“Do you—do you have a cream, or something?” he asks, then gestures to his crotch. “You know. For the pain. Chaffing and stuff.”

“Ah,” Cas nods. “Sure. Go ahead, I’ll bring it to you when you get into bed.”

Dean nods, grateful. At least he’s not alone this time. He’s gonna be okay.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Cas smells absolutely fucking divine, and Dean’s sanity meter goes from ‘okay’ to ‘two-seconds away from losing it’ as soon as Cas sits next to him on the bed.

“Shit,” he breathes, closing his eyes and holding on to the sheets as if his life depended on it.

Thanks to Cas’s cream he’s managed an unsatisfactory orgasm while Cas was showering and he thought he was good for a two-hour nap, but apparently his body has other ideas.

“What?” Cas asks.

“I, uh… maybe you should stay away until it’s absolutely necessary that you come near me?”

“Is my scent affecting you already?”

Dean nods vigorously. He opens his eyes again and gives Cas a pained look. “It’s not like last time. This time it’s worse.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Believe me, you don’t remember how it was last time. This is normal, considering the circumstances. Now please, take off your clothes.”

Dean freezes.

Granted, if he was alone he wouldn’t have bothered dressing after his shower, but with Cas around, he’d rather keep at the very least something to cover his genitals. Until he doesn’t have a choice anymore.

“What for?”

“I need to examine you, remember?”

“No. If you touch me I’m not sure what’s going to happen.”

Cas lets out a long-suffering breath. “You said your penis hurts, you’re having painful cramps, and you described the sensation in your channel as ‘like throbbing fire’. Chaffing can only explain so much.” He gives Dean a stern look. “So please. You called me here as your doctor. Let me do my job.”

Dean hesitates. He tries to hold Cas’s gaze, but everything is too much right now. He’s hurting, that much is true, and Cas smells great, and he wants him. He wants Cas’s knot stuffing him to the brim.

And of course he wants Cas to ‘examine’ him if it means Cas will touch him. He’s tired of fighting his conscience all the time.

Inhaling as if to gather his frustration and exhaling it out, he sits up, struggling with the long sleeves of his shirt before he manages to take it off and throw it on the side of the bed.

“I didn’t just call you as a doctor,” he mumbles.

“What’s that?”

“I didn’t just call you as a doctor. You know… I…”

Cas hums. “I know.”

“’kay.”

“Okay. Now, pants.”

Dean has just enough strength left in him to roll in his eyes. It’s worth making the effort when Cas’s reaction is to hold back a smile.

“A little help,” Dean says.

Because his arms are too tired.

“You just want me to undress you,” Cas replies.

This pulls a surprised scoff out of Dean. He almost forgot Cas could flirt, although you’d have to know him really well to know that this is what he’s doing.

This is nothing like Aaron’s flirting. Aaron is not subtle. He’s sure of his power of seduction, and although he’s not conventionally handsome, it’s his assurance and his humor that make him charming.

Cas is very different. Cas is shy, and he doesn’t think he’s that great-looking, and every time he denies being the most gorgeous man Dean’s ever seen, Dean just wants to grab him, shake him and yell at him to take a good look in the mirror. It’s infuriating. And so, so endearing.

God, this is what was missing from their little dinner together the other day. Cas was really not here to get into Dean’s pants. He was here to work.

It’s both reassuring and disappointing to Dean.

Reassuring because there _was_ something wrong, Dean wasn’t being paranoid. Disappointing because is this what their relationship is actually like when they can’t smell each other? Just dry, without substance? Without heart?

Cas leans closer and gently puts his hands on the hem of Dean’s pants, head tilting on the side, like he’s asking for permission.

Dean nods.

His pants are gone faster than he would have expected, Cas making a quick work of sliding them down his legs. Being the gentleman that he is, Cas averts his eyes – because of course Dean wasn’t about to put on underwear in the state he’s in – and takes the time to fold the pair of pants before depositing them gently on the chair next to Dean’s bed.

“Alright,” he says, turning to Dean again. He scoots closer to Dean, still looking only above Dean’s waist. “I’m going to examine you now. Don’t hesitate to tell me if it hurts, or if it’s too much, okay?”

Swallowing around the anxious tightness in his throat, Dean nods.

This is it. He’s about to have Cas’s hands on him. If he didn’t already have a full erection, he could’ve sworn he got harder at the words.

Satisfied that he has Dean’s consent and his full attention, Cas finally looks down.

“Hm.”

Dean raises his head. “What?”

“You couldn’t have used lubricant?”

“I didn’t have any left,” Dean answers, letting his head fall against his pillow. “And before you ask, no, I couldn’t buy more.” He hesitates, but he’s pretty sure Cas is going to ask him about taking time off work at some point, so he’d rather get his lecture now and get it over with. “I’m out of a job.”

Cas, who was about to bring his hands to Dean’s cock, stops dead in his track.

He blinks at Dean. “What happened?”

“Bad-mouthed a customer,” Dean shrugs. “Boss didn’t like it. It was one of his friends, so…” he trails off.

Cas shakes his head. “I know you. If you spoke up, there probably was a good reason. Friend or not, your employer should’ve seen that.”

Dean’s absolutely not moved by Cas defending him. He’s not. The sudden warmth in his cheeks only comes the heat. “Well, it is what it is. I’ll find something else.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Cas agrees fiercely. “But still.”

He’s so outraged on Dean’s behalf it’s almost funny.

Dean smiles despite himself, and despite the pain. “Aren’t you supposed to examine me?”

Cas shoots him a warning look, but there’s no bite to it. He’s playing. “I’m trying to, yes,” he replies, looking down again.

He licks his lips. “You did go a bit too hard and too dry,” he says, poking at the skin of Dean’s cock with a finger. Dean hisses. “So ideally I would tell you to put some more cream and try not to touch your penis for at least the next twelve hours. If you can.”

Dean groans, looking up at the ceiling.

Cas pats his thigh. “I know. I want to check that you didn’t hurt your insides as well, if you don’t mind.”

This time, real heat comes up to Dean’s face.

“Uh, okay. If you have to… Just know I won’t be responsible for what happens once your fingers are in my ass.”

Cas laughs, “I forgot how charming you could be.”

Dean wants to answer something, give Cas his most charming grin and a ‘what can I say?’ line, but a sudden burst of sharp pain has him double over on his side. That ends that.

“Okay, try to breathe through you nose,” Cas says gently, pulling a pillow from behind Dean’s head. He tries to push Dean on his back again, but Dean refuses to move.

“I feel better on my side.”

“Alright. That’s not a problem, but I just need you to let me put this cushion under your hip.”

“Okay. Okay, just gimme a second. I feel like I’m giving birth.”

Cas smiles reassuringly, waiting him out. “That can happen. But I’ll do my best to provide some relief.”

Dean exhales slowly. He breathes in deep, holds it in. The tides of pain recede a little. He has no doubt they’ll hit back very soon, but for now he’s… stable. He gives Cas a thumb up.

“I’m good. Go ahead.”

With careful movements, Cas slides the cushion under Dean, propping his butt up. He guides Dean’s leg, the one not resting on the bed, toward Dean’s chest, bending the knee delicately until it rests on the sheets at an angle.

“Are you okay?”

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah.”

This is weirdly intimate, but the position seems to decrease the pain a little. Dean has to admit it’s nice to feel taken care of.

Cas seems satisfied, and he bends over to retrieve a bottle of lubricant from his medical bag. He scoots closer, one leg elegantly folded under the other, until his clothed thigh is touching Dean’s naked one. Only then does he rest his hand on the bed near the small of Dean’s back.

“I’m going to examine you, now.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Dean huffs, and tries not to acknowledge that in other circumstances, this could turn into a kink.

Cas doesn’t answer.

Instead, he clinically pours some lube on his fingers, and brings his hand close to Dean’s hole.

Dean’s heart barely has time to skip a beat in anticipation that Cas’s fingers are already circling his rim.

He can’t help it; he lets out a moan.

And promptly hides his face in his pillow. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Cas says like he truly isn’t bothered. And maybe he isn’t. “Your body has been craving contact for days, it’s only natural. Does it hurt?”

Dean shakes his head, still hiding. “Nah.” His answer is muffled by the fabric. “It’s just… it feels like there’s a bruise, if that makes sense.”

Cas hums. He keeps caressing Dean’s hole, and Dean’s pretty sure he doesn’t do that to the rest of his patients.

Dean, being only human, takes advantage. “Please go slow?” Not because it’s a bit sensitive – It truly is – but that’s not what Dean’s focused on.

Cas sees right through him. “Don’t push it.”

When Dean looks up, Cas is intently staring at his own fingers rubbing Dean’s ass but there’s a knowing smile on his lips.

“Well, the way I’m looking at it, you’re the one, uh, pushing it between the both of us.”

“Only if you behave,” Cas answers, and Dean has to hide his face between his arms.

Cas slows his ministrations, going up and down Dean’s crack now, making sure his palm rubs against Dean’s balls as he does.

Dean lets out a sigh. For the first time in a few days, the pain is muted enough that he can enjoy the contact, the sheer sexual nature of it.

The flirting took another turn, and Dean loves it. He’s never spent a single heat with someone he could share it with before.

He doesn’t think Cas will fuck him, not really, but if he’s willing to give Dean a hand, so to speak, it would be a lot more than Dean’s ever had.

He can’t wait.

“Um,” he tries turning his head so he can breathe. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful or impatient, or… or whatever. But, um, it still hurts a bunch.”

Cas finally tears his eyes away from Dean’s ass to look at Dean. He raises an eyebrow, like a question.

“This feels real nice and I hurt a little less, so I was wondering if we could skip the foreplay, you know, just this once. Just so I can feel a little better.”

“Masturbating earlier didn’t help?”

Cas doesn’t let the discussion distract him though. He keeps stroking Dean gently, honing in on the center of Dean’s rim.

“No,” Dean lets out in a breath. This is really starting to feel good. “My dick was hurting and just touching myself never helped much during my heats anyway.”

“Hm.” Cas pushes against Dean’s ass. Just a little tease. “What about with a partner?”

“Couldn’t say.” Dean pushes back on his finger. “I’ve never had a heat-partner.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’ll find that it goes much smoother with someone. Trust me.”

“Will you, huh,” Dean finds a spot somewhere near his head that he can look at, and keeps his eyes firmly there, “will you stay with me? Just this time. You know.”

There’s a pause, just for a moment, but even with that Cas doesn’t stop stroking Dean.

“Of course, Dean. If you want me here, I’ll stay.”

Dean closes his eyes and relaxes. “Thanks.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stay overnight, but—”

“I know. I understand. It’s okay.”

“Good.”

“Yah.” Dean settles better against his pillow. He keeps his eyes closed. “Now can we…” he trails off.

“Yes. But I need to be careful if I don’t want to hurt you. And I really have to check for lesions first.”

Dean’s eyes blink open despite himself, and he lowers his head, trying to find an angle that will allow him to look at Cas without hurting his neck.

“I’ve been digging in there for two days. I’m good and loose, I promise.”

Cas huffs. “Charming. Again.”

“It’s true.”

“I take it you’re feeling better.”

“A little bit.”

With a sigh, Cas grabs the bottle of lube again. He drops a dollop directly on Dean’s ass, making him yelp.

“Sorry,” Cas says, not looking sorry at all.

Dean harrumphs but lets him bask in his smugness without saying anything.

“I still need to go slow if I want to feel any potential problems,” Cas says.

He pushes his index finger in, just the tip for now, and makes a circling motion as he feels for whatever it is that he’s looking for.

Dean almost comes on the spot. “O—okay.”

It’s both amazing and absolute torture, all at once. Cas is going too slow, and by the time he has a second knuckle inside, Dean’s sweating from the frustration alone.

“Dean?”

“Hm.”

“Is it hurting?”

“N—no. I, uh…” God, he’s parched. He wants to fuck himself on Cas’s finger. He wants to come. “I’m just having trouble staying still. Are you done?”

The smile Cas gives him as an answer is more than devious.

“Just about.”

Dean almost whines. Almost.

“But I won’t make this harder than it already is. No pun intended.” Dean scoffs. “Give me a minute and then… I’ll make you come as many time as you need. How’s that?”

There it is. There’s the whine, high-pitched and lingering at the end there, much longer than Dean would’ve liked, even with his mouth closed.

“I take that as a yes,” Cas says, satisfied. “Now where were we?” he says, before plunging two fingers inside Dean without warning.

After the whole ‘checking Dean for injuries’ thing, he doesn’t need to add more lube. Dean’s ready and leaking so profusely he knows there’ll be a big stain on his mattress when they’re done, forever commemorating this moment.

Dean’s never felt that good during a heat, ever.

Cas fucks him thoroughly with his fingers, and Dean comes harder than he as in years.

The day is not that young anymore, so Cas pulls two more orgasms out of him with his hands – without touching Dean’s cock, of course – and a last one with his tongue, as a treat.

Unfortunately for them both (Cas has had a boner since he first started touching Dean, but refused that Dean do anything about that) it’s late enough after this that Cas has to stop taking care of Dean, and go take a shower to get rid of Dean’s smell.

When he exits the bathroom, he’s impeccably dressed in different clothes that he brought with him, fully covered in blockers, and his erection is gone.

Dean gives him a regretful smile, which he answers in kind.

“Well. I’m off,” he says awkwardly.

He doesn’t move.

“Yeah. Uh, thanks. For today, you know.”

Cas’s sad smile turns sincere. “It was my pleasure.”

“I’m pretty sure it was mine,” Dean huffs tiredly, which makes Cas shake his head in amusement.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Cas promises.

He finally takes a few steps forward and retrieves his medicine bag from the floor.

“I’ll be okay until then,” Dean answers.

They take a couple of seconds to appreciate each other. Dean just wishes Cas had less clothes, because Cas is sure getting an eyeful of Dean, but Dean has nothing interesting to memorize.

“Have a good night, Dean,” Cas finally says, breaking the silence.

“Good night, Cas.”

Cas leaves. The apartment feels cold, and empty.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean hears Cas coming back before he sees him, but his body seems to light up a the sound nonetheless.

It’s a good thing he showered and changed his linens as soon as Cas left the evening before, because he hasn’t been able to sleep for more than then minutes without being woken up by bursts of pain.

And he’s hungry as fuck, and thirsty, and he’s gonna die.

There’s no way he’s making it through the day.

“Cas,” he calls, weakly.

Cas pops his head through the door, and his expression immediately turns from a happy smile to a worried frown.

He doesn’t run to Dean’s bed, but it’s a close thing. “What do you need?”

Den’s really close to crying, but he holds back. It’s already shameful enough to be lying naked in the fetal position, in a room that probably smells like death, in front of his boss. He doesn’t want to add to that.

“Uh, food. Water. I need to come. Not in that order.”

Cas doesn’t laugh. “Let me get you a glass of water first, okay? You need to stay hydrated.”

Almost like a reflex, Cas runs a hand through Dean’s sweaty hair. Dean gets a whiff of his scent, just a slight one, but it’s enough to help clear the fog in his brain.

But before he can understand the relief flowing through him at the sight of Cas, Cas is gone again.

Dean hears rummaging around the kitchen, the sound of glass, the water running. He’s quickly back by Dean’s bedside, bringing a glass of fresh water to Dean’s lips.

Drinking is almost orgasmic after the night Dean’s had.

When he finishes his glass, Dean feels human again. And more awake that he should be, in his opinion, but his body is still amped up on hormones, so he decides to count this as a blessing and move on. 

The need to fuck is already coming back with a vengeance.

He groans. “What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty,” Cas says, placing the back of his hand on Dean’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Horny. And hungry,” Dean sighs. “Can you make me come while I eat? Would that be doable?”

Cas raises an eyebrow at him as he takes his hand away. “If you can make jokes then it mustn’t be that urgent.”

Dean tries to lift his head, but he gets immediately dizzy. “I’m not joking,” he slurs as he lets his head fall on his pillow again, settling more comfortably on his back.

He tries to find the sheets to cover himself, but they’re not under his legs anymore after he kicked them off during the night. They’re not even on the bed anymore. He’s getting a bit cold.

“What feels more important?” Cas asks.

“I—I don’t know.”

His stomach growls.

Cas nods to himself, “Food, then.”

“No,” Dean protests, and so he’s pretty sure he’s just made up his mind. It’s hard to tell, he feels so hazy. “No, I think I, I want you to…” he trails off.

Cas takes off his vest and his tie – no bow tie today, and he’s not wearing his glasses, which Dean regrets a little – and comes to sit on Dean’s bed, by his side.

“You won’t be able to smell me.” He rolls up his sleeves as he talks.

“It’s okay,” Dean says as he takes in the sight. “I don’t think I can wait.”

He’s been hurting for a good part of the morning already (he thinks?). At this point, he doesn’t know if it’s cramps or just hunger, or maybe a little bit of both. All he knows is, he’s in pain. He feels empty inside. And not in the metaphorical, sad way.

Cas seems to think for a moment as he looks at Dean from head to toe. Dean squirms under the attention.

“Does your cock still hurt?”

Dean’s stomach tightens in pleasure. He always love hearing Cas use the word ‘cock’.

“It’s okay today.”

“Okay,” Cas says.

And without preamble, he slides down the bed, pulling Dean’s thighs open and kneeling between them.

Dean’s heart skips a beat.

“I think we need to make this quick if you want relief,” he says.

“Okay. Uh, what d—”

Cas bends over, ignoring him, and takes Dean’s cock in his mouth.

Dean chokes on his next words.

An unbidden moan makes its way out of his mouth as the heat of Cas’s mouth engulfs the tip of his dick. His tongue circles the head, and Dean starts leaking slick again.

“Oh. Oh, yeah,” he manages.

This is everything he needed. He wasn’t expecting it from Cas either, and the surprise takes him from zero to a hundred in barely a second.

He can do nothing but stare, mouth agape as Cas’s head bobs up and down enthusiastically.

Dean’s never had anyone blow him like this before.

And Cas is enjoying himself too, judging by the way he closes his eyes in delight and hums, sending spikes of electric bliss up Dean’s spine.

He’s all powerful, despite what he’s doing. The muscles of his back ripple beautiful under his crisp white button-down shirt, his forearms contracting as he clenches and unclenches his hands around Dean’s hips.

God, he’s beautiful like this, lips stretched around Dean’s dick.

He stretches like a cat, both hands gripping one last time at Dean’s hips like he needs the support before sliding up to Dean’s chest. His thumbs graze Dean’s nipples, just a little tease, and he slides his hands down again.

The sight is incredible. It’s all the fantasies Dean’s ever had rolled into one beautiful moment, and none at all like them at the same time. Dean’s doesn’t have enough imagination to do justice to the real thing.

He thinks maybe it’s the fact that he’s been wanting Cas for so long that makes this whole moment so unreal and amazing, now that he finally has him. A tsunami of goosebumps rise up from his wrists to his biceps as he takes in the sight.

And he comes.

Hard. So hard it takes his breath away for what feels like forever but is probably a couple of seconds. He doesn’t make a sound, but his whole body tenses so tightly he sees white spots dancing in front of his eyes even as he comes down.

He doesn’t close his eyes despite that. And it’s a good thing, because Cas doesn’t stop when Dean is spent. He swallows around him, every little drop, and ends up giving Dean tiny kitten licks until Dean’s clean as he’ll ever be and too sensitive to bear it anymore.

“Better?” Cas asks, looking up.

His cheeks are red, his lips slick with spit, and his eyes shining with intent. Dean would kiss him silly if he thought he could get away with it.

As it is, he can’t even raise his head. Cas literally sucked the life out of him, so he just nods weakly.

“Thanks.”

His stomach growls again. Cas smiles and jumps off the bed like an excited puppy. Dean’s never seen him like this.

He discreetly adjusts his erection as he walks away, but of course Dean catches it. His mouth waters.

He hopes Cas will agree to be touched at some point today. He doesn’t have any self-restraint left in him.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“I’ll—I’ll do it,” Dean hesitates, giving Cas what he hopes is an enticing look. “But maybe you could take off a layer, you know? So I can have a nice view at least.”

Cas, sitting on a kitchen chair that he brought into Dean’s room and placed facing the bed, raises an imperious eyebrow at him.

“You won’t be looking in my direction.”

“Cas! Come on!”

“I’m tired,” Cas answer, not looking tired at all. “If you want to come you’ll have to do it yourself.”

Dean huffs, pushing up on his elbow with more difficulty than he would like. “And if I do, you’ll let me touch you? You’ll get naked and everything?”

“If I like what I see. Perhaps.”

Okay, so yeah, a couple of hours into this and they’ve already gave up on pretending they don’t want to jump each other. Or that they’re doing that for science.

Cas has been hyper all the while as he forced Dean to have a regular lunch and to shower before they could get to the good part. Then he fucked Dean with his fingers again, and they’ve had about twenty minutes after that before Dean was too horny to keep on with the nice little chat they were having.

And this turned into this weird… whatever this is where Dean pretends to be a petulant omega and Cas his stern, commanding Alpha.

Dean fucking loves it.

“Fine,” he sighs. “How do you want me?”

Cas crosses his legs, then folds his hands over his knees.

“Back to me. Legs spread, head down.”

Oh, fuck. Dean scrambles to get into position, insides doing flips from the anticipation.

He’s acutely aware that he’s presenting his whole entire ass to Cas’s hungry gaze as he bends over, and a fresh drop of slick makes its way out of him, trailing slowly along his balls.

All that, just from imagining what Cas must be looking at.

God, he wants it. He wants so much more, but this is a very, very satisfying start.

“Not yet,” Cas warns when Dean reaches for his own ass.

This gets Dean wetter, if that’s even possible. A whine builds up in his chest, but his pride won’t allow him to let it out.

“Good,” says Cas when Dean rests his arms under his head.

A few seconds pass, but for all Dean knows it could’ve been minutes. The need to touch or be touch is nagging at him now. Staying still is a feat in itself.

“Please,” he lets out, more and more desperate. “Can I touch now?”

“Just a moment.”

“Cas…”

“You’ve just earned ten seconds more. Now will you shut up and stay still?”

Dean bites his lips.

God, he loves this so much but he’s so desperate at the same time!

He’s never felt as elated during a heat before. There’s a part of him, deep inside, that sees Cas as his Alpha and that loves being ordered and ruined by him.

He knows it’s most probably the scent bond talking, and he’s usually pretty good at ignoring that part of himself.

Today is not one of those days. The only reason he’s held on for as long as he did is because his inner omega wants to make Cas happy.

“Very good,” Cas breathes.

And finally, finally, is he going to let Dean play with himself?

“See?” he goes on. “Waiting can be nice.”

“It doesn’t feel nice,” Dean can’t help answering.

“Do you hurt?”

“No. I don’t, but I just, I just need—”

“Ah, yes, but you also know that if you do what I say it will be even better than if you’d helped yourself right away. Isn’t that right?”

Dean groans, or else he would start making little hurt noises like a puppy, and he’s not sure his ego could recover from that.

He’s started to sweat. His ass starts clenching and unclenching around nothing, the simple pressure of air on his rim making him leak like a faucet.

“It’s called delayed gratification, Dean. And besides, I’m enjoying the view very much. I might leave you here like this all day.”

Okay. Okay. Saved for that last part, if Cas’s enjoying himself, then maybe Dean can hold on a little longer. He wants Cas to enjoy the view so much that he’ll have no choice but to break first and fuck Dean until Dean passes out from pleasure.

“I can wait,” Dean pants.

Cas hums.

The chair he’s sitting on creaks but Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around to see if he got up. Even if he wanted to, Dean realizes he’s closed his eyes at some point, and he’s scared that if he opens them, he’ll lose his grip on his body.

If he focuses enough, he can imagine Cas coming closer, and running a hand on his ass. Caressing him, oh-so slowly, sliding a single finger from the top of his rim to his balls, just to tease him. There’s no way it’s going to happen, but thinking about it helps a little.

“All right,” Cas sighs.

Dean hears the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and he can’t help muttering a quiet ‘fuck!’ into his arms.

“You’ve been very patient, thank you. You may finger yourself now. Just two fingers for now.”

Relief flows through Dean, and he scrambles to reach behind himself, eyes still closed to really savor the moment.

“Gently, Dean, slow down.”

Huffing, Dean stays his hand and repositions himself so he’ll be comfortable. He has a feeling he’s going to be there for a while.

“That’s it.”

Dean feels emboldened by how satisfied Cas sounds. He doesn’t seem affected, so turned on that he can’t speak, but Dean hears some shuffling, the noise of clothes on clothes. He hopes Cas is touching himself, at the very least.

But enough thinking.

Dean concentrates on himself, and finally lets his fingers make contact with his skin. Just the tip of his fingers on his rim, slowly stroking. He hopes it’s gentle enough for Cas.

For him, it’s a relief like he’s rarely felt before.

Letting out the pent up tension that’s been building inside him in a breath, he pushes his two first knuckles in. Stars seem to burst behind his eyelids.

He gasps.

“Go ahead,” comes Cas’s voice from what seems very far away.

Dean’s too lost in sensation to answer – not that it needs a reply in any case – but he remembers suddenly that there’s a live Alpha behind him, and his fingers immediately seem too small and too cold.

A pitiful whine escapes him as he plunges them as far as they can go, but it’s simply not enough.

“Come on,” Cas goads him. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“No,” Dean groans, and tries to go faster.

Giving it to himself is not that easy, though.

When he’s like this, he really needs to be pounded into unconsciousness, there’s just no way he’s able to do that to himself with just two fingers.

That’s why he usually uses a toy with a suction base, so he can prop it up in the shower. At least he can use the weight of his body then, to make it acceptable.

“It’s not working,” he complains.

And why does he feel like crying all of a sudden?

“It will. Trust me.”

Dean wants to scream his frustration, but he’s not sure it will be received well. So he grits his teeth, and keeps making wide in and out motions, using the entire range of motion of his arm. It only sparks the kind of pleasure he’s looking for once every four or five times, and now there are real tears in his eyes, trying desperately to escape. Dean won’t let them.

His shoulders hurt, and it’s not working.

He’s not even close to Plateau, and just the fact that he can think that proves it’s not enough. This is ridiculous.

“Plea—ease,” he sobs. “Cas, I can’t—”

“Stop moving,” Cas orders.

To his great surprise, Dean obeys almost instantly. His arm freezes. He sniffles, and it seems to echo in the now silent bedroom.

“Remove your hand, and settle down. Now.”

Dean hesitates a little, but does as he’s told.

He’s empty. It feels so much worse.

“I’m right here,” Cas breathes, much more gently. Suddenly is hand is on Dean’s hip. “Relax. I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

Dean nods vigorously, another sob on the cusp on his lips. A tiny noise escapes him, and when he finally opens his eyes, turning his head to look, he’s blinded by all the tears that gathered there. He blinks them away. They fall on his cheeks, but it feels like relief.

Cas has unbuttoned the first three buttons of his dress shirt, his fly is open, and his hair is flying in odd directions, as if he ran his hand through it too many times.

He looks as much of a mess as Dean feels.

And of course, he’s sporting a huge erection, half-hidden through two layers of fabric.

“Please, fuck me,” Dean begs.

He wants that knot he can see just wanting to burst out of that bulge. He wants it in his mouth, he wants it in his ass, he wants to touch it.

“Not this time,” Cas answers with a smile. “But later, I promise.”

Having found a modicum of restraint, Dean huffs, tries to pretend he’s still in control of his body. This little game they’re playing is fun and all, but now he’s openly crying, and it won’t stop, and so he’s pretty sure he’s reached his limit.

But the one thing he’s sure of, looking at Cas, is that Cas noticed that too. Dean trusts him.

With that knowledge, he looks away, letting his head rest on the bed again.

“Cas, I need you.” His voice cracks. “I can’t wait any longer…”

“I know”, Cas answers, and his breath is suddenly near Dean’s butt. Dean stomach tightens. His ass clenches in anticipation. “You have me.”

After that, all Dean knows is there’s a tongue on his ass, and it’s warm, and soft, and everything Dean needs. 

Cas knows, of course, that this is Dean’s favorite thing in the whole world. But he also knows that it’s frustrating like this, because Dean can’t see, can’t watch Cas’s tongue flick against his skin in the punishing rhythm he’s setting now, can’t see his chin and cheeks shiny with slick and spit.

Dean tries to look, but the angle doesn’t do the act any justice. All Dean can make out from here – and it does help a little – is that Cas is kneeling on the floor to be just high enough, and his hands are fisting the sheets like he has to physically retrain himself from touching Dean.

Dean feels delirious.

The orgasm is building steadily, pleasure pooling in his groin, gathering momentum for later.

He could come any minute now, but he holds it. He wants this forever. He wants to live in this bed, naked and at Cas’s mercy.

But of course, he’s only human. Soon, he can’t fight against the pleasure, and his mouth drops open. He pants, hand reaching blindly for his cock.

He needs to touch. Right now.

But Cas is faster than him. His hand shoots up, catching Dean’s arm and twisting it behind his back. Dean, in his weak, horny state, can’t fight it.

And he wouldn’t have tried, anymore. If not for the fact that Cas had to take his tongue away to catch Dean’s arm, Dean would have come from the sheer power of the move.

“C—Cas. Cas, please—”

Cas shushes him.

He digs in again like he’s the one who needs to eat Dean’s ass, like he’s the one in heat with a pending orgasm just hanging at the edge.

Dean braces himself on the bed with his free arm and pushes back against Cas’s face. He’s rewarded for his enthusiasm when Cas finally dips his tongue in his hole and sucks.

Gasping again, Dean rests his forehead against the mattress and fucks himself on Cas’s tongue.

Cas’s hand is digging into Dean’s thigh, like he’s holding on for dear life. The way he eats Dean out is getting sloppy. It makes it even better.

“Ah, Cas! Cas,” Dean pants, heat coming up to his head as the pleasure sends goosebumps along his body. “I’m—I’m gonna—”

Cas goes harder, if it’s even possible. Dean can feel the saliva and slick sliding along his balls and thighs, but what he’s focused on is the building ecstasy now that Cas’s tongue has found the right spot, Cas’s chin rubbing on Dean’s balls as he moves, adding to everything.

The orgasm is right there, it swirls and swirls from his ass to the pit of his stomach, growing bigger and bigger until it’s right there.

Dean holds his breath, relaxes his whole body, and he comes.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, fuck, oh fuck!”

It’s all he can say as he does, hiccupping small sobs in between expletives.

Cas keeps going. Dean feels like the pleasure is never going to stop. It swipes along his body in waves, lighting up every single nerve ending as it does, and at some point, it even seems like another orgasm is going to burst through. It only lasts a second, though, and disappears before it can explode.

The pleasure recedes, slowly, until it feels good, but mostly because Cas’s tongue is warm and he knows exactly where to apply pressure.

Dean pulls away with a sigh, and Cas lets go of his arm.

His whole body feels like it’s made out of jelly. He can’t move. He can’t even lie down properly.

It could be funny or awkward, or both, were it under any other circumstances. But he’s still in heat, at the peak of it, so he doesn’t really care how he must look, ass up, sweaty and covered in slick.

Besides, his inner omega is glowing with pride, knowing that the sight makes his Alpha happy, that Cas went crazy with the taste of him.

Suddenly, Cas is moving again.

Dean feels him stand more than he sees him as he turns his head.

“I’m going to fuck you, now,” Cas says, almost matter-of-factly.

He’s out of breath, voice cracking as he speaks. Dean’s stomach gives a small flip, and he nods. He can’t speak just yet.

From the corner of his eyes, Dean watches as Cas fumbles with his pants until he’s pushing them down violently in frustration. His underwear follow just as fast, and soon he’s standing behind Dean, butt in the wind and erection proudly standing at attention.

“You’re still taking suppressants?” he asks, slowly stroking himself.

Dean hums weakly.

“Then I’m going to knot you as well, if you don’t mind.”

Dean huffs a small laugh. Cas looks like a mess, and holding back seems to be taking a lot out of him, but he’s still taking the time to make sure Dean’s okay with the program.

It’s oddly cute.

“Great idea,” he manages.

Cas nods. This is all the permission he needs.

The first time he slides home, it ignites the need and pleasure inside of Dean again with so much force that Dean chokes on a breath.

Cas groans, and it sends Dean into feral mode.

This time, the whine he lets out is animalistic. He arches his back, making sure Cas has a great view. In answer, Cas fumbles with his pants, a frustrated growl escaping him until he can free one leg and brace his foot on the bed.

When he’s set, Dean tries to push up, to turn and give him a lewd look, but he doesn’t get the time to.

Cas snarls, pushes Dean’s head down, his fingers digging into the back of his neck, and goes to town.

Dean’s instinct is to fight, but Cas’s grip on him is too strong. This unleashes something in him, something that makes all the pores of his skin open up and suck up every little molecule of air around him. He loves it.

Loves how strong Cas is. He loves that he makes Cas’s inner Alpha go crazy on him.

Dean’s more than satisfied being manhandled, and if not for the fact that Cas’s fat knot is already swelling and pounding electrifying delight into Dean, Dean would keep fighting back so Cas would have to truly restrain him.

Is this what a heat is supposed to feel like?

He understands now what all the fuss is about. He didn’t get the sappy Christmas movies that gushed about finding your true mate, but he does now.

If this is how it is with someone he’s bonded with, he suddenly regrets not having goaded Benny into biting him.

Cas keeps fucking into him hard, oblivious to Dean’s sudden epiphany.

His knot is still swelling slowly, filling Dean to the point of pleasure pain as it starts catching at Dean’s rim every time Cas pulls out. To his great surprise, Dean’s pretty sure he’s going to come again. Any second now.

He tries to push back against Cas, but Cas tightens his grip on him, cutting Dean’s air just slightly, and he suddenly bottoms out and stops moving.

Panting, Dean tries to look at what’s going on. Cas won’t let him move.

“Be still,” he growls.

Dean obeys. He waits, impatient, sure, but also curious.

After a long moment, he can feel Cas’s thumb pulling at his rim. He moans, surprised, but very much on board with the program.

Cas keeps pulling until he can fit his thumb alongside his cock. Only then does he tentatively move again.

The pressure is incredible. Dean can’t help moaning again, eyes closing on their own. Cas seems to take that as a positive sign and gives a bigger push of hips.

This time, the cry of pleasure that comes out of Dean is echoed by Cas.

They’re both into it, very much into it, so there’s nothing left to do for Cas than to piston into Dean with renewed enthusiasm.

He sounds wrecked, and Dean feels the same.

He’s going to come, he’s going to come so hard it doesn’t seem that far-fetched that he might explode when it happens.

He’s pretty sure Cas is right there with him.

“Kn—knot me,” he starts whining, “Please, please, I need you to—Holy! Fucking! Shit,” he bellows as Cas’s knot finally pops and it seems to tear him apart with the added pressure of Cas’s thumb, and Dean comes despite the pain, or rather because of it.

Cas keeps pounding into him, a growly-whine coming out of his throat every time he bottoms out and his cock pulses with each release of come.

And each and every time, Dean’s whole body seizes with a bolt of pleasure so fierce it blinds him, zapping through his whole body as if each bout of ejaculate is drawing another orgasm out of him.

And so he comes, and he comes again, over and over and over until he actually passes out from it.

He literally passes out. He’s not here for a long moment, or maybe a second, because time loses all meaning. He’s not Dean, he’s not a body, he is pure pleasure.

When he comes to, he’s lying on his side, Cas’s very naked warm body draped possessively around his back.

They’re still linked together, and Dean doesn’t feel like fuckin again, which probably means it mustn’t be that long since his earth-shattering orgasm (orgasms? He’s not even sure).

“Dean?”

Dean tries to hum, but only air passes through his throat. God, he feels like he’s died and gone to heaven.

His body seems to be floating, he’s warm, he’s sated, and it’s almost like he just woke up from the best nap of his life, except he can’t move.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

He hopes Cas heard him.

“How are you feeling?”

Dean tries to say ‘perfect’, he really does his best to push the word out, but nothing gives. So he pats Cas’s arm wrapped around his middle.

Cas lets out a small laugh, “I hope you enjoyed your first time sharing a heat.”

Dean nods.

“What do you say I make us something to eat, and then we can change the sheets and put you to bed? How does that sound?”

Dean frowns. He tries to turn around but it’s hard. He lets out a frustrated sigh.

Cas, still laughing, takes pity on him and helps him. Dean manages to wrap an arm around him all on his own once they’re facing each other.

They’re sharing a pillow, which surprises Dean a little. But Cas said he was going to take care of Dean. So far he seems to keep his promise.

“You’re not hungry?” Cas asks with a small smile.

His eyes roam all over Dean’s face.

Dean, for his part, is lost in the blue of Cas’s eyes. It’s nice to finally be able to see him after all this time.

“Dean?”

Dean shrugs. “Not really,” he mouths. “This is nice.”

Cas hums. “Are you saying you want to cuddle?”

His nose scrunches up adorably as he tries not to laugh at Dean’s scandalized expression. Of course, Dean can’t hold back his own smile for much longer.

“Okay,” Cas breathes. “We can stay like this for a little while. Whatever you need.”

Closing his eyes for a few seconds to show his contentment, Dean snuggles closer, if that’s even possible. When he opens his eyes again, they’re so close he has to go cross-eyed a little.

They just stare at each other, and Dean wishes this day would never end. He doesn’t want to know what time it is. He doesn’t want Cas to leave.

Cas hums like he’s agreeing with Dean’s thoughts, but maybe he’s just happy to be there, doing nothing.

Dean certainly is. He doesn’t know what comes over him, but suddenly he’s rubbing his nose against Cas’s, and when he realizes what he’s doing, it’s much too late to pretend he didn’t do it on purpose.

Oh, well. Now that he’s got both feet in it, might as well embrace the weirdness of it.

When he’s sure Cas won’t pull away, he brings his mouth closer, and drops a small peck on Cas’s lips.

After that, his courage deserts him. Who can blame him though? He’s in heat. He’s rightfully exhausted.

When he pulls away, he’s delighted to see the slight blush on Cas’s face. He looks happy though, eyelids fluttering and gaze dropping down in shyness, but it doesn’t stray away from Dean’s eyes for too long.

This moment, right there, is perfect.

Dean wants to bottle it, keep it inside him forever, the warmth of it, the contentment. He makes a point of sealing the image in front of him tightly inside his memory: the late-afternoon winter light falling on Cas’s face through the holes in Dean’s shitty curtains, highlighting the flush still left on Cas’s cheeks after the wilds sex they’ve just had. The small, pleased smile on his lips. The spark in his eyes as they drop to Dean’s mouth.

Dean locks everything up inside his brain, and, with one last smile, he dives forward again.

This time, it’s a real kiss they share. Cas caught up with the program, taking his time to taste Dean gently as his hands rub Dean’s back.

As far as Dean can remember, he’s never had that kind of profound experience with another person before.

He tries not to think about the fact that it’s only due to the scent bond, most probably.

It’s in the back of his mind, but he pushes it away. For now, they’re kissing, and Dean feels relaxed like never before, and all he wants is to keep exploring Cas’s mouth.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean’s heat lasts barely a week.

Cas comes every day – Dean doesn’t dare ask what he told his boss – and they’ve even established a cute little routine.

When Cas arrives, he drops some groceries in the kitchen for later before joining Dean in his room. Then he takes off his clothes saved for his underwear, because he insists on them eating before they do anything more strenuous than trading hand jobs when he barely got there. They usually kiss for a while, and end their little greetings with the aforementioned hand jobs.

On the last day, Friday, as Dean is toward the tail end of his heat, Cas lets Dean suck him off.

They end up naked in the kitchen, eating PB&Js – Cas’s favorite snack, Dean was delighted to find out – before hopping into the shower together for another soapy make-out session.

They only have full-on penetrative sex once.

Dean doesn’t need it, per se, and Cas is clearly aware of that, but they don’t mention it.

Cas knots Dean, and this time they’re facing each other when it happens. That way, they can kiss some more while they wait for Cas’s knot to go down, only to stop when their lips burn too much.

After that, they talk. Just little chatter, small talk, mostly. They talk about the Study at some point, agreeing that they should meet at least once a week, and even figure out a tentative schedule for the next month, to try and see if it would work for Dean.

“I have to admit something,” Cas whispers.

They’re lying on their sides, faces as close to each other as they can be. Cas is still in Dean, even though his knot is long gone.

They’re holding each other, and Dean has been having that weird, sad-but-satisfied feeling he gets when he knows something good is almost over.

“Hm?”

“You know when we had dinner a few weeks ago? And you accused me of not having done any research regarding the Study?”

Dean raises his eyebrows at him. “Yeah?”

“You were right.”

Dean blinks at him. “O—okay.”

He’s very aware that, would he have known that a week ago, he would’ve been very angry. But right now? It feels unimportant.

“Why did you lie, then? It’s not a big deal.”

Cas shrugs. “I wanted a reason to see you. And it felt like… just asking you to get together wouldn’t have cut it for you.”

Dean hums. Cas has a point.

He doesn’t know why it feels so different right now. It doesn’t seem as bizarre to imagine they could meet and see each other just for the hell of it.

“Okay. Well, don’t worry. It’s fine. It’s okay.”

“Hm. Thanks for the validation, Dean,” Cas deadpans.

It makes Dean laugh. “What? I thought you wanted me to say that I forgive you or something. Wasn’t that what you were getting at?”

“No.” Cas keeps a straight face. “I just wanted to be honest with you, but thank you for your magnanimity.”

Finally, he smiles.

Dean shakes his head. “Alright. Well, I’d be happy to see you outside of work. You know, as a… a…”

“A friend?”

The silence that settles between them as they stare at each other is very telling. They’re not friends, and neither of them believes that. They’re well past that.

Dean looks at Cas, with his hair all tousled, and his beautiful eyes, and the serious frown on his brow and he thinks, _I love you so much_.

“Yeah,” he answers as his heart seems to inflate and shatter at the same time, “that.”


	16. November 1953

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried posting this last night, and from what I could tell nobody received a notification, so I'm uploading again.   
> Apologies to anyone who's read this one already and thought there was a new chapter!

#  **November 1953**

Dean makes it all the way to his car before Aaron catches up with him.

He’s kind of glad Aaron is persistent, because Dean’s been avoiding him ever since he came back to school. Aaron was apparently not deterred.

“Dean!”

It’s not that Dean doesn’t want to see him. It’s just that there’s a big conflict happening inside him and he’s not sure it’s wise to spend time with Aaron while he figures out his shit with Cas.

With a sigh, he turns away from his car and toward the university grounds. The building is bathing in the artificial lights of the street lamps, and with the cold but dry weather, it looks kind of ethereal. Dean likes the mood it provides.

Aaron is jogging toward him, his perpetual smile in place. Dean like this view as well.

“Hey,” Dean greets him as he gets close.

“I see you finally gave up on hiding from me,” Aaron says lightly, but what he was going for is slightly undermined by the fact that he’s out of breath. “That’s good.”

“I wasn’t hiding from you.”

“Right.”

“I was hiding from everyone.”

Aaron huffs, taking a step closer. Dean can feel his body heat. “Why?”

“They all know why I wasn’t in class,” Dean shakes his head. “They already think that because I’m an omega I don’t have a place here. How do you think they’ll react now that I had to miss a whole week because of a heat?”

Aaron’s mouth twists, like he knows Dean’s right but doesn’t like it. Or doesn’t want to admit it just yet.

“They’re not that thick,” he shrugs. “Come on, you could try talking to some of them, at least. So they could get to know you. And then your gender wouldn’t be that much of a problem.”

Of course, he’d think that. As an Alpha, he’s never had to face other people’s prejudices.

Dean scoffs, “What, you mean I could make actual friends? Disgusting!”

It has the desired effect of making Aaron laugh, and Dean turns to his car again, satisfied that he steered the conversation away from something he’s too tired to talk about.

“Come on, Dean.”

Aaron nonchalantly drops against the car, arm rubbing against Dean’s.

He gives Dean a small smile, and his eyes drop to his lips. Of course, after the night out they shared together, he’s going to want to pick things up where they left them.

But the week Dean’s just spent with Cas is like a giant chiasm between them. Dean needs a little more time to get in the right mindset and be able to find the balance in his relationship with Aaron again.

Cas is married anyway, he chastises himself.

Dean can never have him, so there’s no problem to solve. Not now, not in the future, especially not if they start the Study again and they manage to be successful with the peer reviews. If that happens, Cas needs his wife by his side. He already has a reputation as a pervert, he needs to show he’s a family man, so people can get that he’s a serious scientist, not some twisted voyeur.

Dean doesn’t have the right to even entertain the notion of an actual relationship developing with Cas. Amelia doesn’t deserve that.

Sighing again, he looks back at Aaron with a confident smile he’s not really feeling.

“I’ll go out with you again, and your friends if you want, I promise,” he says, unlocking the driver side, “but not today.”

Aaron pouts.

“I’m starting my new job, I can’t afford to be late, alright?”

And it’s true. This little dive he’s found was actually interested in his background as a bartender, and they even allowed him to take Wednesday evenings off so Dean can go work with Cas. It’s perfect. Dean doesn’t want to fuck it up.

Nodding, Aaron pushes away from the car. “Alright. I’ll hold you to it, Winchester.”

Dean winks at him, and slides inside his car, an overwhelming feeling of confusion suddenly coming over him.

Things are getting complicated, out of nowhere. They shouldn’t be. His life is getting better. He’s studying and he has a job and he can work on the Study again and things are looking up.

Why does it all feel like it’s going to go down?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

On Wednesday evening, Dean reaches the clinic at six thirty, a bit earlier than agreed with Cas (okay, a lot earlier, Cas won’t be there until seven), and he has to admit as he exits the car and take the time to look at the building that he’s pretty excited about being here.

God, he’s missed this old, raggedy building. He’s missed working here.

He hasn’t missed the flight of stairs that go up to the clinic, though.

He’s somewhat happy to see he’s not too out of shape when he reaches the top. All he needs is a thirty-second break to catch his breath, but at least he doesn’t feel like he’s dying.

To his surprise though, the lights are on, there’s a mop lying haphazardly on Dean’s desk, and a broom propped up against a wall.

Dean pushes the glass door to get inside the clinic, and realizes with great dismay that it’s almost colder inside than it is in the stairway. The heaters seem to be on, but it smells like burned rubber, which has him guess that Cas just turned them on not long ago.

“Dean? Is that you?” Dean hears Cas call from the lab. “Could you give me a hand here? Please?”

Dean shakes his head.

Not only did Cas came way earlier than agreed, he’s already started working. Typical.

“Coming,” Dean calls as he steps toward the lab.

When Dean reaches the door to the observation room, it’s open, but Cas isn’t there.

Through the one-way mirror, Dean sees him wrestling with a brand new fitted sheet inside the bedroom. He stands there for a few seconds, a small, amused smile on his lips as he observes Cas getting angrier and angrier by the seconds.

“Dean!!”

Dean huffs a small laugh and finally joins Cas, exiting the lab and entering the bedroom with his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. “Yeah?”

Cas, who had his back to the hallway door, jumps in surprise in the most comical manner Dean’s ever witnessed. Dean doesn’t burst out laughing, but that’s a close call.

Cas lets out an annoyed huff, “Could you please help me?”

“Sure,” Dean agrees, deciding he’s not going to upset Cas further, because the Doc is actually throwing affronted looks at the sheet, and wary ones at the still-packaged pillowcases.

He makes his way to the other side of the bed and takes a piece of the sheet from Cas.

“Thank you,” Cas exhales.

With two pairs of hands, they make a quick job of fitting the sheet to the mattress.

Dean gives Cas some space to maybe explain what they’re doing, but Cas is stubbornly silent.

He looks upset, and Dean’s pretty sure it’s not because of the linens.

“Didn’t know we were redecorating,” Dean comments.

Cas’s chest inflates as he takes a breath. He puffs it out before answering, “The old ones were disgusting.”

“Okay.”

“We need a fresh start.”

“Agreed,” Dean says as he catches the pillowcase Cas throws at him. “But, um, don’t you think we ought to find some patients and maybe a bit of dough before we make the place presentable?”

Cas stops what he was doing – namely, fighting with a pillow that didn’t seem to want to enter its case – and directs a murderous glare at him.

“Well, can you make it happen today?” he snaps. “Huh? Do you have fifteen thousand dollars for the equipment I would need and the rents I missed and the late fees that go with that?”

Dean blinks. He’s just stepped with both feet in it, hasn’t he? “No?”

“Then shut up and help me make the bed.”

He’s avoiding Dean’s eyes as he busies himself again, so Dean, in turn, avoids running his mouth.

He wonders what happened that soured Cas’s mood that much. Dean’s long learned not to take it personally when he’s like this. Besides, the last time they saw each other they had some wonderful sex, so Dean doubts Cas is angry with him for _that_.

No, something must have happened.

Something at work? Dean is sure if it had anything to do with his colleagues, Cas would be talking Dean’s ears off about it.

It has to be something personal for Cas to keep it so close to his chest.

A cold feeling of dread suddenly overcomes Dean, goosebumps rising along his skin. Is it Amelia? Is she suspecting something? Shit. How can he ask Cas, then, if this is really it?

“So, um, linens. That’s good” he says, sliding the pillowcase he’s holding onto a pillow.

Cas watches him do it with something akin to jealousy. He’s still struggling with his own.

“Yes.”

Taking pity on him, Dean takes both pillow and case out of his hands and quickly put it all together.

When he’s done, he throws the pillow on the bed.

“Please tell me you’re not getting your panties in a twist because the old sheets were dirty.”

At that, Cas finally stares at him. Dean stares back, and it takes a while, but the moment the anger leaves Cas is very clear in the way his whole body deflates.

“Amelia found out…” he starts, and Dean feels like he’s been doused with freezing water, “about the mortgage.”

_Holy shit, fuck! Oh, fuck! Fucking fuckity Fuck! Shit!_

“O—okay. I mean,” Dean rubs his chest. Fuck. His heart actually hurts from the whiplash. “I’m sorry.”

The anger comes back in Cas’s eyes, in the way he tenses, and he grabs the brand new flat sheet assorted with the rest, throwing a side to Dean.

“She called my mother. _My mother_ , Dean!”

Yeah, Dean feels that in his core.

Naomi Novak is not someone he wants to be on the wrong side of. He’s guessing Cas got a good dressing down.

He doesn’t know what to say to that, other than confirming that Cas’s mother is a huge bitch, but since he’s pretty sure Cas won’t take this well, he settles for, “Ouch.”

“So of course, Mother got involved.”

Bending over, he starts to push the edge of the sheet under the mattress. Dean follows his lead.

“She wanted to pay off my debts,” Cas scoffs.

Dean’s eyebrows try to disappear into his hairline. “Uh. Wanted? She didn’t?”

“Of course not,” Cas exclaims, straightening up suddenly. “I didn’t let her. Do you have any idea the amount of power it would give her? She’d think she’d have a right to tell us how to work, what to do… we can’t have that!”

Yeah, no. She would gladly get Dean fired, most probably. Easy way out, sure, but not the greatest of ideas.

“And Amelia won’t talk to me ever since I refused Mother’s offer.”

“Well,” Dean tries as he arranges the sheet on his side, “she’s reasonable. If you explain—”

“She won’t listen to me!” Cas rages, throwing his arms up in the air. “She won’t even stay in the same room when I try!”

The outburst doesn’t distract him from what he’s doing, though. He tears the packaging of a brand new comforter, and Dean tries not to be turned on by such a display of strength. He fails.

“I—I don’t know what to tell you,” he says. “Maybe give her time to be angry and try again in a few days.”

This has Cas stop and stare.

At first, Dean thinks he’s going to snap at him, but instead, he squints, straightens again, and cants his head slightly on the side.

He’s thinking about it.

“Is it real advice or are you just saying that to put an end to the conversation?”

“No, Cas. It’s real advice,” Deans answers, licking his lips as he thinks about how to best explain himself. “Right now she’s probably more angry about the fact that you hid it from her rather than about the money. Right?”

Cas seems a bit confused. He shrugs.

“So listening to you might not be the first thing she wants to do, you know; Cause everything you’re going to say is going to sound like a lie.” Cas hums at that. “So give her some time to digest the news, for the hurt she’s feeling to… turn into something less emotional. I don’t know.”

Cas shakes his head, but his frown doesn’t leave his face. “I don’t see why this would be an emotional trigger. Money is not something she takes care of, usually.”

“It’s not about the money, trust me,” Dean sighs, annoyed now. Cas is clever, but when it comes to people he can be such a knothead! “And if you still don’t get it, just tell yourself it’s some omega bullshit, maybe _that_ will get through to you.”

Uh, okay. He didn’t mean to be this angry about it as well, but here he is. Guess it struck a chord with him too. Maybe he’s just scared. If Cas’s lies are unravelling, what else will Amelia find out?

He starts working on making the bed again.

He doesn’t want to see Cas’s reaction.

Cas just doesn’t get it, does he? Amelia just learned that Cas saw Dean naked – it’s the only thing she knows about their involvement in the Study, thank God – and that Cas hid it from her. Now she ‘finds out’ that they’re broke because of the Clinic, and the way Cas said it to Dean implied that he wasn’t the one who broke the news to her.

Of course she’s gonna be pissed. How can he not see that?

“Please, don’t be mad at me, too, “Cas says, quietly.

When Dean looks up, Cas is looking dejectedly at his feet.

Dean’s heart breaks a little seeing him like this. He rounds the bed, and takes Cas’s arm – not sure that they’re intimate enough to hold each other’s hands – and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling Cas with him.

“I’m not mad,” he says. Cas sighs at that. “You just… sometimes the way your brain works is really frustrating.”

Cas looks up at that, an eyebrow rising up at the words. Dean smiles.

“People’s reaction sometimes baffle me,” Cas admits.

“Only sometimes?”

“Don’t be mean,” Cas admonishes, but there’s something playful in his voice.

Dean bumps their elbows together as he laughs to himself. When Cas doesn’t shy away from the contact, he allows himself to relax a little.

“She’ll come around,” he offers.

He doesn’t know what else to say.

“You’re probably right…”

“And in the meantime,” Dean goes on, “we’ll make a list of events, and we’ll find some money. I have a few of your former patients’ details, we’ll make it work.”

“Hm-hm.”

Cas turns to him with something like hope in his eyes, and a lot of exhaustion written in the lines of his face.

Dean wonders if he’s grateful that Dean at least tries to be reassuring, or if he’s just pretending their little chat helped to make Dean feel useful.

In any case, Dean tries to ignore his self-doubt, because this isn’t about him. Not really. Even if it involves the Clinic.

And then Cas’s eyes flick to Dean’s lips, so quickly it could almost have been missed. But Dean saw.

And now he wants.

Cas takes his eyes away. “Let’s get to work, then,” he exhales, pushing himself off the bed.

Right.

The conversation might have hit too close to the heart for Cas, or maybe, like Dean, he’s thinking that if they stay in this room, on the newly made bed, things could get out of hand real fast.

They _do_ need to get to work.

Dean nods. He follows Cas.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Go out with me,” Aaron says out of the blue as they’re walking to the library.

Dean stumbles a little. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Well, we’re out,” he answers, deciding to play dumb. “Together.”

“On a date,” Aaron says, ignoring Dean’s stupid joke. “Not to get wasted. An actual date.”

Dean huffs. He doesn’t know what to say to that. Does he want to go out with Aaron? Sure. Why not.

Does he want them to date?

Anxiety bubbles up his chest at the thought. He hasn’t committed to anyone in so long that the fear of being in an actual relationship is almost suffocating.

“Dean. Come on.” Aaron bumps into him as they walk. “You, me, a nice restaurant. My treat.”

“We don’t need a restaurant if you just want to have a chat,” Dean mumbles. “We can do that in the library.”

Aaron stops walking. He grabs Dean’s arm and turns him around until they’re facing each other.

“What are you afraid of? It’s just a date.”

He tries to catch Dean’s eyes, but Dean can’t really hold his gaze right now.

“I’m not scared.”

Aaron scoffs.

“I’m not.”

“Then what?” Aaron asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. “You’re already seeing someone? Are you married?” He jokes.

Dean finally finds it in himself to look Aaron in the face. He braces himself, takes a breath.

“No,” he exhales.

And it feels like a lie. Aaron frowns.

“I just got out of a relationship,” Dean goes on. “Sorta’.”

“Sorta’?”

“Don’t judge me, okay?”

“I would never,” Aaron says, taking Dean’s hands in his.

Dean looks around out of reflex, to make sure nobody is going to see them, before he remembers that they’re allowed to do that. They’re both single. Both students. They can date if they want.

“I was seeing that guy… that Alpha. But we weren’t dating…” He gives Aaron a look to try and make him understand what he means.

Aaron nods, “Right.”

“And he met someone and, and fell in love, I guess? So, um, yeah, we stopped fooling around.”

Aaron hums. “But then you realized you didn’t want to stop seeing him.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

It’s mostly true, and yet Dean feels like it’s a blatant lie. But telling Aaron about Benny is easier than telling him about Cas.

Going on a date sounds great. Dean’s tired of hiding. With Cas, he has to. He can never have that with him.

But if he’s going to date Aaron, he at least has to tell him about the Study before Aaron finds out on his own.

“I also…” he starts, and can’t bring himself to say any more.

Aaron perks up.

“I don’t want you to—” He sighs. God, why is this so hard? “I’m not sure you’d want to date someone like me. To be associated with me I mean.”

Frowning Aaron starts rubbing Dean’s hands with his thumbs. “Why wouldn’t I want to be associated with you?”

Dean looks down at his feet to gather a bit of courage before looking up again. He wants to take his hands away. This is just weird.

“Just to be clear, I’m not ashamed of any of this,” he says, and Aaron’s face follows a whole complicated journey, from confusion to fear, back to confusion again.

“But I know what people think of it,” Dean goes on, “even medical professionals.”

“Okay…”

“So… hum, did you hear about the… ugh.” He hates the name, but that’s how it’s known in the field, so… “The, uh, ‘sex study’?”

Aaron’s eyebrows raise slightly. He recognizes the name then, at least?

“Ye—yeah. I’ve heard of it.” His shoulders relax suddenly. “Wait, did you participate?”

Dean hesitates. Aaron doesn’t seem angry or disgusted.

“Not exactly…”

“Not exactly?”

“I, uh, actually am part of the team?” Dean tries, and he doesn’t know why he makes it a question. “Doctor Novak’s team. Not that there’s a lot of people working on it. Just Ca—Doc Novak. And me. I’m the secretary.”

Aaron is silent for a long moment. Something’s happening in that noggin’ of his, but Dean can’t read his face.

So he waits, anxious – Aaron is his only friend here, he doesn’t want to lose that – and gives Aaron the time he needs to digest the news.

“Oh wow,” Aaron finally lets out. His face breaks into an excited smile as he squeezes Dean’s hands. “Are you—Really? You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”

Dean huffs, relieved that Aaron is taking it well but a bit vexed that he would question Dean’s sincerity.

“Yeah, I’m pretending to be part of the infamous ‘pervert study’ just to mess with you.”

“No, Dean, I mean…” Aaron scoffs, “my friends… they know I won’t shut up about it ever since I found out. You know I want to go into obstetrics, right?”

Uh. No. He didn’t, actually. “Yeah, of course.”

“Doctor Novak is my idol! I was so angry when they fired him, I was hoping I could intern under him…”

“Oh,” Dean blinks, trying to come to terms with everything Aaron just said. “Well, he’s still a Doctor, you know. You can apply wherever he will be when it’s time for your OB/GYN rotation.”

“Would you introduce us?” Aaron asks.

He’s almost vibrating out of his skin. It’s kinda cute. Dean would appreciate it if not for the fact that, somehow, Cas has managed to insinuate himself between him and Aaron without even knowing it.

Dean doesn’t want them to meet.

“Uh. I don’t know. I can try, but—”

“That would be amazing!”

Dean lets out an uncomfortable laugh.

That’s… that’s great. At least Aaron is not put off by the Study, that’s a good thing. Right?

“And don’t it means I forgot you didn’t answer my question,” Aaron finally says, pulling Dean slightly closer. “Go out with me?”

Dean sighs and shakes his head. He can’t help smiling at Aaron’s persistence. “When?”

“Now.”

Dean’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline. “Now?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“I’m working tonight.”

Aaron lets go of one of Dean’s hand to look at his watch. “In… three hours. Give or take?”

“It’s four-thirty. I’m not hungry,” Dean argues.

“We can get a milkshake. Or a pop. I don’t mind.”

Dean opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t have an excuse.

“I—” He stops, huffs. “Fine. I could go for a milkshake. Just one.”

“Fine with me,” Aaron says, a triumphant smile on his lips.

“You’re insufferable,” Dean smiles too.

“You like it.”

Yeah. Dean can’t argue with that.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The Clinic is looking good, now that Cas went crazy with the décor. He even bought Dean a new, nicer desk.

They still don’t have any client though, or funding.

Currently, Dean’s trying not to think about his date with Aaron while he’s going through his notebook and compiling their former clients’ details.

He’s failing miserably.

All he can do is look at a random spot on his desk and smile to himself as he remembers the way Aaron sucked on his straw in a funny but still sexy way that made Dean laugh so hard they had to leave the diner, as the other customers were starting to throw angry looks their way.

Even though they don’t really know each other, and Dean can’t really picture himself as a couple – with anyone – he’s really starting to like Aaron.

But then there’s Cas, and just the thought of that has Dean’s smile falter a little.

He doesn’t want to stop seeing Cas.

He wants to keep seeing Aaron, see where it could lead.

Dammit. This is too complicated. Is this what Cas is feeling all the time?

“I was going to say ‘I’m not paying you to stare at the wall’,” Cas says from behind him, and Dean jumps slightly, “but I’m not paying you, so this wouldn’t have had the impact I would be going for.”

Dean turns around in his chair and gives him a cocky smile. “Well, don’t that just beat all? You can’t force me to do things anymore.”

“I’ve never forced you to do anything, and we both know that,” Cas says as he walks to him.

Dean shrugs. He could argue that statement, but he’s in a good mood and antagonizing Cas about his past mistakes wouldn’t serve any purpose anyway.

“I was just taking a break,” Dean breathes out. He leans back in his chair and stretches to emphasize his point. “This is dull, honestly.”

Cas’s eyes roam over Dean’s chest, lingering on the bit of Dean’s belly that peeks out from under his shirt.

Dean keeps his stretching going for a few seconds longer than necessary. He likes the way having Cas’s eyes on him makes him feel.

“Yes, I’m right there with you,” Cas agrees.

Casually, he sits on Dean’s desk. “I was so bored I think I spent an hour daydreaming about all the other things we could be doing in here if we had money.”

Dean looks up at him, leaning his head on his hand. “Like what?”

“Like having a nicer desk for reception. An actual waiting room. There,” Cas points to the empty space next to his own office, “if we add a wall, we could have another room.”

“For the waiting room?” Dean asks, skeptical.

“No,” Cas says. And there’s someone knowing in his eyes. “For you.”

Dean stares blankly. “For me? What for?”

Cas sighs like Dean is being purposefully slow. Dean could almost feel upset if he didn’t know that that’s how Cas feels about everyone.

“You didn’t think I would let you work in the middle of the hallway, now, did you?” A small smile comes to tug at the corner of his lips. “As my assistant, you’ll need a proper office.”

Dean blinks. And blinks again, as, slowly, it registers in his mind what Cas is saying.

“What?”

Cas’s smile gets wider.

“I—I mean,” Dean stammers, “really? You’re—does that mean… what does that mean exactly?”

“It means,” Cas leans over, smug and pleased with himself, “congratulations. You’ve just been promoted.”

Dean huffs an incredulous laugh. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Does that mean I get a raise as well?”

Cas barks out a laugh. “Well. Only if you do a good job.”

“You know I always do,” Dean answers.

He’s excited. What Cas just said is slowly setting in. Dean his gonna have his own office. Holy shit!

“Are you happy?” Cas asks. And he sounds really unsure. Dean knows it’s a real question. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m just giving you more work.”

“Are you kidding?” Dean exclaims, letting his excitement shine through. “Of course I’m happy! I love the work we do here. And I’m really glad you’re feeling that my input counts.”

“Of course it does,” Cas smiles, pleased. “I’m glad. And I’m excited for what comes next.”

“Me too,” Dean agrees. “But first… we have to get through the boring stuff.”

Cas hums, but his whole body sags as he looks at his feet.

“We don’t have to do it all tonight.”

When Dean looks up at him, he shrugs. Dean huffs slightly, leaning back in his seat.

“You had something else in mind?”

Cas shrugs again. “We could celebrate your promotion. As friends, like we said.”

At that, his eyes finally find Dean’s. Dean can’t help the amused smile that spreads on his face.

“We don’t have any alcohol.”

“We don’t need alcohol to have fun.”

“Alright. What do you propose we do, then?”

He’s teasing now. He knows very well what Cas has in mind.

Even in the yellowy, low light of his desk lamp – the light bulb in the lobby hasn’t been working since they came back to the Clinic – he can see Cas’s pupils getting larger and larger. He has that excited puppy look on his face that Dean’s gotten very familiar with during his last heat. His leg is twitching like he wants to bounce it. He keeps licking his lips.

His involuntary responses to arousal are broadcasted so loudly that even a first year pre-med student just discovering the Study would be able to read them.

“There’s a perfectly good bed in the lab. I’ve been told it’s quite comfortable.”

“Sure.”

“We could see if the new sheets are comfortable as well.”

Dean lets out a laugh. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

Cas gives him a very serious look. “Yes.”

Dean hums. “Is that what friends do in your neighborhood.”

“Dean.”

“Cas.”

“Do you want to go test the bed with me or not?”

He’s really annoyed, his eyebrows furrowing as he crosses his arms above his chest. God, he’s beautiful.

“Of course I want to test the bed. I’ve been wanting to test the bed with you since you first bought that awesome mattress.”

Cas’s frown smooths out. He smiles again.

Slowly, Dean pushes away from his desk, and stands up.

He unbuttons his shirt – he wanted to look nice for Cas, sue him – which makes Cas freeze and follow the movement of his hands with his eyes, like a spooked animal.

“What are you doing?” He asks, before audibly swallowing.

“Testing that bed.”

“We’re in the lobby.”

“And?” Dean asks, looking down at his hands as he undoes the last button.

He looks up at Cas from under his eyelashes, a devious smile on his lips. Slowly, he slides the shirt down his back.

“Well,” Cas keeps his eyes firmly on Dean’s chest, “there’s no bed.”

“Is it sturdy?”

Cas’s eyes shoots up to Dean’s face. “What?”

“The bed,” Dean answers, letting the shirt fall to the floor.

He pulls on the lower hem of his undershirt until it’s free from his dress pants.

“I—wh—I think so,” Cas answers, eyeing the movement.

Dean’s very proud of himself. He slides the undershirt up his chest, revealing his skin. “Would you say it could withstand two grown men jumping on it?”

“We’re not jumping on the bed.”

“Cas.” Dean stops just shy of taking the undershirt off. “Indulge me.”

“I knew people were going to have sex in it. Of course it can,” Cas answers, confused. “What are you up to?”

Dean shrugs, removing his shirt. He lets it fall to the floor as well. “Nothing,” he whispers, taking a step forward until he can lean over Cas, who’s still sitting on the desk. He stops short of kissing Cas.

Cas gulps.

“I was just thinking,” he breathes, pauses, and leans even closer, moving his head on the side of Cas’s face. “You’re so calm and poised all the time.” He angles his neck just so, just enough that his scent gland will be close to Cas’s nose. Right on cue, Cas inhales. “I’m wondering if I could get a rise out of you.” He’s so close he can smell Cas too. 

God, he smells so good that Dean almost growls when the smell first hits him. “Test those Alpha instincts a little.”

Cas exhales shakily. He doesn’t move. “And how will you do that?”

Dean hums. He can feel Cas’s breath on his scent gland, and just that is enough to make him wet.

Well, if he’s honest, just looking at Cas and picturing him doing unspeakable things to Dean makes him wet. But that’s not what’s important right now.

He brings his mouth closer to Cas’s ear. Smiling in anticipation, he whispers, “Catch me,” and takes off.

He runs as fast as he can, toward the lab’s bedroom.

There’s not much ground to cover, and he didn’t give Cas much of a heads up, but his heart is racing. It’s like his level of excitement triples as soon as he can hear Cas’s footsteps behind him.

The bastard is fast.

Dean kind of forgot the guy runs every morning, but it doesn’t matter. He’s not trying to win a race. He just wants Cas to react on instinct and body-slam him into the bed.

If he can make it to the bed before Cas catches up with him, that is.

There’s the anxiety that comes with being chased, of course, it’s just instinct on Dean’s part, but feeling Cas on his heels, knowing that he took the bait, has Dean elated.

He lets out a hysterical laugh as he reaches the doorway to the bedroom. Luckily, it’s open. He’s running so fast he has to catch the doorframe and grab at it to make the turn, cackling like a madman as he reaches half-way through to the bed.

This is when Cas catches up with him. And fulfills his wish.

Dean manages to jump a little before Cas tackles him, and it’s lucky he did, or else he’s not sure they’d have landed on the bed.

A voiceless, “Oof!” escapes him as he lands.

He doesn’t have time to do anything else.

Cas’s whole body is pinning him down, trapping one of Dean’s arm under his own belly, the other currently being forced up Dean’s back by one of Cas’s hand. With his other hand, Cas is pushing his face into the mattress.

Satisfied, Cas growls into Dean’s ear, and Dean laughs breathlessly at that. “It worked,” he manages, even though it’s difficult to speak with Cas’s whole body weight crushing his chest.

“That was cruel,” Cas mumbles.

His face is very close to Dean’s scent gland. It’s clear he wants to at least give it a sniff. Lick it, maybe?

Dean gets a shiver from the thought alone.

“You—you can… uhm, touch it. If you want,” he offers.

Cas hesitates. “Touch what?”

As an answer, Dean cants his head, opening his neck so Cas will have better access.

His heart is beating a hundred miles a minute. From the run, from the excitement; A little bit from the apprehension that this could not be taken well.

This is very intimate, after all.

“Are you sure?” Cas whispers after a few seconds

Dean licks his lips. “Yeah. Very sure.”

Humming, Cas brings his face closer. The first thing that touches Dean’s skin is Cas’s nose. He buries it in the skin there, inhaling like he’s snorting drugs or something.

Dean’s genitals are suddenly throbbing as all his blood rushes south.

“Fuck, yes,” he lets out.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you on this bed for so long,” Cas breathes into Dean’s skin, “that I’m not really sure where to start.”

“Right here,” Dean manages. “Here is good. Perfect actually.”

Cas’s teeth graze Dean’s scent gland as an answer, and Dean almost comes on the spot.

“There’s something you said once, it’s been on my mind lately,” Cas whispers. He pulls away a little, relieving some of the pressure on Dean. “But if you don’t want to do that, I’ll understand.”

Dean almost gets distracted by Cas’s erection pushing further into his butt as Cas moves a little.

But the hesitation in Cas’s voice has him curious. He knows this is going to be good.

“You’ll have to refresh my memory.”

“Hm.”

Finally, there’s a tongue on Dean’s gland. Tentative, so there’s not much pressure, but it still has Dean’s eyelids flutter close in ecstasy and moan like Cas is swallowing his dick.

“Or I could just keep doing this all day.”

Dean wouldn’t say ‘no’ to that, but he understands that Cas is stalling, and now he _needs_ to know what’s up.

“Don’t try to distract me, it won’t work.” 

“It was worth a try.”

“I don’t remember suggesting something so terrible that I’d have to pull it out of you as if it was a dirty secret.”

“It’s not that terrible,” Cas sighs. His weight shifts on top of Dean, like he’s settling more comfortably. He lets go of Dean’s arm behind his back, but keeps his other hand on Dean’s head. “But it might be a little dirty. At least for me.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, opening his eyes again.

“Okay. Now I really have to know.”

Cas sighs again. “You told me once…” he trails off.

Drops a kiss on Dean’s neck.

“Yes?”

Lucky for Dean, they’re both wearing blockers from their day jobs. So at least Dean can’t be distracted by Cas’s smell, unless he’s burying his nose into Cas’s neck.

“You said you wouldn’t be averse to… switching gender roles. If you could find a willing Alpha.”

Oh. _Oh, fuck yes!_

“Hm-hm,” he answers, much more composed than he’s feeling.

“What do you think?”

“You want me to—” Dean stops and clears his throat, because his voice is suddenly a couple of octaves higher.

“Yes. Not fully. Maybe, just your fingers for now.” Cas pauses. Dean wants to see his face really badly but he doesn’t dare move. “Just to see if I like it.”

“Hm-hm.”

“You… would you…”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Because if it’s not, it’s o—”

“Cas. Shut up. Yes, okay? A thousand times yes.”

“Okay.”

“I’m game.”

“All right. Good.”

Silence settles between them. Neither of them makes a move.

God, Dean’s hard as a rock just thinking about it.

And judging by the thick hard cock he can feel digging into his butt through his pants, Cas is too.

Finally, Cas clears his throat. “So. How do you want me?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean’s inner monologue has been a litany of ‘ _Oh God!_ ’, ‘ _Oh shit!_ ’ and ‘ _Oh fuck, he we go!_ ’ for ten straight minutes now. He’s so excited he can’t think.

“Okay,” he says with a lot more confidence than he’s feeling as he sits back on his heels.

He’s kneeling in between Cas’s legs, as Cas is laying down on the bed, butt propped up by a pillow.

This time, it’s Cas who’s naked, and Dean who’s somewhat still dressed. He’s removed his shoes and socks, but kept his pants on, for now.

“Are you ready?” he asks Cas, searching his face for a sign of hesitation.

But Cas only looks as eager as Dean feels.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Alright.”

He has lube on his right, there’s a couple of towels under Cas, he has everything he needs. Now he just has to make it less awkward.

Cas gives him an impatient look, head tilting on the side. Dean can’t help but steal glances at his magnificent cock, standing at attention and almost begging to be touched. It jumps when Dean licks his lips as he’s looking at it.

Dean leans forward, letting his hands rest on each side of Cas’s head and gently lying down on him.

Cas gives him a puzzled look. “It’s going to be hard for you to reach between my legs like this, don’t you think?”

Dean smiles cockily at him. “Who said we were getting down to business right away? I thought you wanted to have some fun.”

Cas gives him his most serious look. “I don’t see what could be funner than getting finger-fucked by my secretary.”

Dean drops his chin on his chest in order not to burst out laughing. “Research assistant,” he corrects as he looks up again.

“Sure. If that makes any difference in how soon you’ll get to work.”

“It might not do anything at all if you keep behaving like a grumpy asshole.”

Cas huffs before a smile overpowers him. “Fine. You’re the Alpha. Do whatever you want.”

_Oh fuck!_

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean half-stammers. “I am.”

He wonders if it would be too much if he called Cas his omega, and maybe tell him he’s Dean’s little bitch.

Well, yeah, even in his head, it sounds too forward, and not at all like something Cas would appreciate. Besides, the time he took to think about this is too long a pause that he couldn’t let it out now. It would be strange.

“Dean?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks down at Cas, who’s giving him a very endeared smile. “Can I kiss you?”

It comes out almost before he can realize what he’s saying, but it’s actually alright with him. This is what he wanted to do anyway. It’s good that a part of him thought to ask before he did.

He loves kissing Cas. The thing is, he never knows if it’s going to be welcomed. Every time they decide to have sex, it always starts so clinical.

Luckily, Cas just nods. So Dean dives in.

He’s slow this time. His heart is soaring, overwhelmed by all the feelings he can’t voice, not even in his head. This would be too dangerous. But he still wants to explore it. Call him a masochist, but he wants to know what it would feel like, the thing he can never have.

First, he just presses their lips together. It’s soft, but a bit dry, so he gives Cas’s mouth a lick, and nips at his lower lip.

Cas’s breathing is slow, relaxed. He lets Dean kiss him, only following his lead. Dean can feel his heart beating against his own chest. It’s almost like his own settles to Cas’s, their rhythm aligning with each other until Dean doesn’t know if it’s his own heart he can feel or if it’s Cas’s.

Opening his mouth a little more, Dean deepens the kiss. Cas exhales at that. Overwhelmed, Dean shiver a little. 

It’s too much. If he doesn’t stop now, he’ll be lost. He’ll want everything, all of Cas, for himself.

Pulling away is hard. He manages anyway, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on Cas’s. He can’t look at him for fear Cas will see _it_ on his face. That he loves him. That he wants Cas to love him back so badly it hurts every time he thinks the words.

“Alright,” he breathes, taking a second to center himself. “Are you ready?”

“I told you,” Cas answers in his low rumble. Dean feels it resonate through both their chests. “I can’t be more ready than I already am. I’m not delicate. You can go ahead.”

“Okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

Cas pushes him up, just a little, just enough that Dean has to open his eyes and look at him.

“I am very ready, please be sure of that. Take this as a final assurance of my full and enthusiastic consent. Okay?”

Dean nods.

“And know that I will tell you if my enthusiasm falters.”

“Okay.”

“Now,” Cas sighs, his eyes dropping to Dean’s lips with something like regret in them, “shall we?”

Dean knows how he feels. He would love to introduce Cas to the wonders of penetration while ravishing his mouth, but he has other plans.

“Alright, then,” Dean says, finding his confidence again.

As long as he doesn’t think of his feelings, he’ll be good.

Sliding down the bed, he gives Cas his best enticing look.

Cas is thoroughly unimpressed. Which fuels Dean’s motivation even more. He wants to make Cas feel so good that he’ll forget he has a knot. That he’ll only be able to beg for more.

Hopefully, this will open him up to being actually fucked next time. Selfishly, some part of Dean only wants it because it’d be something only he can give to Cas. A special thing between them.

He can only hope that Cas will see it this way, and even enjoy it even more because of that.

Jesus, he’s so fucking sappy!

“If you ask me one more time if I’m ready,” Cas lets out, almost growling as Dean opens his mouth to speak, “I will… I… I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll do it.”

Dean chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender, “Sorry.”

“Please,” Cas says. “Don’t tease. We’re way beyond that.”

As he speaks, Dean settles between his legs again, and yeah. His cock is right in front of Dean’s face, gloriously hard, already leaking a little from the kiss and the earlier friction with Dean’s pants.

Dean doesn’t want to be cruel. He has to get to work.

“Relax,” Dean answers, guiding Cas’s legs until his feet are resting on each of Dean’s shoulders. Cas’s cheeks gain some colors at that. “Close your eyes. Enjoy. Don’t think too hard about it.”

Cas only hums as an answer, following Dean’s advice and closing his eyes.

Now Dean can focus on the exquisite dish in front of him.

If he looks close enough, he can almost see the outline of Cas’s knot. His ass clenches at that, but he chases the thought away. He’s here for Cas right now, his own needs can wait.

He’s a little nervous right now, because this is all new, all wonderful and incredible. It’s not too often that Dean will have the occasion to fuck an Alpha.

Jesus, he’s about to fuck Cas.

He should really get to it before Cas changes his mind. Doesn’t mean he can’t tease, just a little, even though Cas asked him not to.

Slowly, he lowers his face close to Cas’s cock, only to avoid it at the last second and dropping a kiss on the delicate skin of Cas’s inner thigh.

Cas lets out an unhappy huff through his nose. Dean giggles.

“Dean…” Cas whines through gritted teeth.

His cock jumps slightly, a droplet of pre-cum sliding slowly from the slit to the base. Dean follows it with his eyes, until it reaches the part of Cas’s cock that host his knot. Once there, Dean pokes his tongue out and licks it off all the way up. When he reaches the tip, he takes Cas in mouth.

Cas gasps at the first contact. His hands tighten in the sheets.

Dean treats himself for a little while. He sucks and nips and kisses until Cas is letting out little puffs of air through his nose in a constant rhythm.

Dean’s not trying to make him come. He just wants Cas to be relaxed enough that he won’t tense too much when Dean first brings his fingers into play.

He’s not sure Cas will make it if he keeps going. Discreetly, he opens the bottle of lubricant as he starts kissing Cas’s shaft again. He makes sure to warm the gel between his fingers, and, while keeping an eye on Cas’s face, brings his hand close to Cas’s butt.

His heart is beating so hard it’s almost like it’s going to pop out of his chest.

Cas jumps, surprised, when Dean touches his hole for the first time. The muscles of his thighs tense around Dean’s head, but Dean doesn’t acknowledge it.

He keeps kissing Cas’s cock, giving it a lick as he runs his thumb against Cas’s taint.

Cas’s head seems to disappear into his pillows. Dean guesses he’s trying to relax, but he knows from experience that thinking too much about what’s going on is only going to make him more tense, which will end up with Dean having more trouble pushing in without hurting him.

“Let your body weight melt into the bed,” Dean whispers against Cas’s skin. “Breathe, but don’t focus on breathing too much, and try to really feel what I’m doing to you. Concentrate on that.”

Cas scoffs. “I’m trying.”

“No.” Dean drops another kiss on Cas’s cock, not stopping what he’s doing with his thumb. “You’re anticipating what’s going to happen.”

He licks another stripe up Dean’s cock and catches the tip between his lips. As he does, he pushes his thumb against Cas’s hole. Not enough to penetrate, but just enough that Cas hisses. Letting Cas’s dick pop out of his mouth, he looks up. Cas has his eyes firmly closed, but his body has released some of its tension.

He breathes, slowly, in and out. Dean waits for a moment gives him time to get used to the sensation of a finger rubbing against his most intimate place.

When Cas seems to be relaxing more and more, Dean goes back to taking care of his cock.

He keeps going like this for what feels like a long time, but Dean doesn’t mind. He absolutely loves having Cas’s dick in his mouth. For some reason, it’s really smooth with no weird hairs, or at least not too much, and not on the shaft, which Dean hates. Benny was a bear of a man, in more ways than one. But Cas is just perfect in that respect. Soft, warm, beautiful.

Dean doesn’t know if this is his feelings talking, or if Cas really has that great of a body, but he can’t seem to find one ugly thing about it.

Cas starts to wriggle under his ministrations, taking Dean out of his thought. His thighs contract around Dean’s ears but this time Dean’s pretty sure it’s not because of stress.

This is confirmed as Cas lets out a whine when Dean pulls out of hand to grab some more lube.

Dean smiles at that, lips stretching around Cas’s cock. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t try to make a joke of it, for fear it will ruin all his hard work in making Cas comfortable. He just keeps his good work, heart pumping and hole leaking like he’s the one about to get fucked.

Lubing up his fingers while sucking Cas off is proving a bit more difficult than he anticipated, but he doesn’t let that get in the way. Truth is, he’s so excited that he’s shaking. It could almost feel like anxiety, if he didn’t know how to read his own physiological signs of arousal. He’s also surrounded by Cas’s smell, his pheromones, as blockers are never sprayed on genitals, and Cas has been sweating and leaking pre-cum for about a quarter of an hour by now.

It’s time to get into things proper.

Dean wants to savor it. He pictures himself pushing his fingers inside Cas, and his stomach seems to do a cartwheel inside his belly.

Cas seems to sense Dean’s excitement as well. He braces his feet harder against Dean’s shoulders, and gives a little push of hips, his cock sliding deeper into Dean’s mouth.

Dean gives one last roll of tongue, and blindly finds Cas’s hole again. There’s no ceremony to it. He brings his index finger close until it touches the skin and he doesn’t stop.

Cas exhales through his nose as Dean’s finger breaches his rim. Dean can see that it’s an effort for him not to tense. To help, he sucks on Cas’s cock, letting his tongue do most of the work instead of bobbin his head. He’s too focused on his hand to be thinking too hard about the cock in his mouth.

His own cock throbs with excitement as he pulls his finger out slightly and pushes in again. The novelty of what they’re doing, the forbidden aspect of it, could almost be as good as having it done to him. Almost.

God, he’s so fucking turned on, he almost regrets that he won’t get pounded tonight. But he’s okay with it. Seeing Cas unravel under Dean’s hands will be reward enough. And maybe Cas will have enough energy left to return the favor, or maybe suck him off?

It doesn’t matter in the moment, anyway. All Dean wants right now is to coax delicious noises out of Cas.

So he pushes in and out, slowly at first, and increasing his pace once Cas starts pushing down on his hand. He keeps kissing Cas’s cock from time to time as he discreetly pushes his hips into the mattress to find some relief.

By the time he quickly pulls out to add some more lube and pushes two fingers back inside, he’s actively fucking the sheets, wishing to God he would have removed all his clothes before they started.

He wants to be naked. He wants to feel Cas’s body against his own, wants to let the air in the room run across his body.

“Dean,” Cas pants, interrupting his thoughts again, “Dean.”

It sounds urgent, more like a question than an exclamation, so Dean looks up, letting go of Cas’s cock.

“Yeah?”

Damn, he’s out of breath too.

Cas extends a leg on Dean’s back, his head falling to one side as he bites on his lower lip.

“I, ah! I… could you…” he trails off, his whole body bowing when Dean touches something that feels like a little bundle of flesh inside of him.

Something like cold panic settles over Dean. He stops moving.

“Don’t—Don’t stop!” Cas urges, voice breaking around the words, “Don’t—”

Dean moves his hand again, albeit more carefully.

“Faster.”

Of course, Dean obliges.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

It’s almost like Cas is coming out of a trance. Slowly, his eyes blink open, and it’s clearly an effort for him to remember where he is.

“N—no. Fuck!” He jumps again when Dean grazes the bundle of flesh.

“Sorry!”

“Do that again!”

“O—okay. Alright, huh…” Dean stammers as he looks for the little bundle again.

When he finds it, Cas moans, head stretching back and pushing into the mattress.

Oh.

_Oh!_ Dean’s just found Cas’s prostate, huh? Okay, that’s good. That’s great.

Dean makes a quick mental note of it, because this seems important not only for the Study, but also for future occurrences of role reversal. He knew it was a thing for male omegas, that the prostate doubled as a ‘pleasure button’, but he didn’t think it was the case for Alphas as well. This is very interesting…

Mental note made, he starts fucking Cas harder, with a strange sense of renewed enthusiasm. He’s too focused on finding the pleasure spot inside of Cas to do anything with his cock for now, but if the way Cas writhes under him is any indication, Cas doesn’t seem to mind too much.

So Dean keeps going, searching blindly for the little bundle. Once he finds it, Cas lets out the most beautiful moan again. It cuts the triumphant cry that almost burst out of Dean’s mouth.

Dean doesn’t let up. He’s found it, he’s not going to lose it again. He goes faster and faster, arm heating up under the strain until it hurts, but the cries of pleasure he’s been waiting to hear are finally spilling out of Cas’s mouth. Dean can’t stop. Not now.

This is an effort, but it’s all worth it. It’s even more worth the trouble when Cas, with a half whine, half sigh, reaches for his own cock.

Dean’s never seen him do that so furiously before. He’s entranced by it.

They both go harder, making the bed shake so badly that, for a few seconds, Dean is scared that the headboard is going to punch a hole in the wall.

Luckily, Cas comes before that happens.

He gasps, throwing his head back as his arm still moves, and Dean has the incredible pleasure of watching Cas’s knot pop up in real time.

Well, it doesn’t ‘pop up’ so much as swells rapidly, and as soon as it does, white ropes of come starts shooting out of the tip of Cas’s cock. They land on Cas’s chest and stomach, and Dean watches them all, fascinated, as he keeps fucking into Cas with his fingers. He slows down his pace after a while, though, knowing through experience that once the first three or four seconds of an orgasm have passed, going too hard and too fast can ruin the second wave of pleasure.

“S—stop,” Cas breathes out.

He slows down his own hand as Dean pulls out his hand. Cas’s ass clenches and unclenches around nothing.

Dean eyes Cas’s cock, he can’t help it. Cas gives it a long, tight stroke, from the base to the top, squeezing out a single drop of come that slowly but surely slides down the shaft.

Dean drinks it all in. And then he looks up at Cas’s face.

Cas is beautiful like this, sprawled naked with his legs around Dean’s head, eyes closed and head thrown back as if in prayer. He’s breathing heavily, chest coming up and down in rapid succession. The pearls of come on his skin catch the light and seem to make him sparkle.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks with a smile.

He can’t help being a little smug. He’s proud of himself.

Cas hums, then huffs. He raises a hand weakly, and very dramatically gives Dean a thumbs up, eyes still closed.

Deans laughs quietly into Cas’s thigh, dropping a kiss on it for good measure. Cas grunts when Dean pushes his legs away so he can climb up the bed.

He drops heavily next to Cas.

“Just,” Cas starts, stops to take a breath and clears his throat, “give me a minute and I’ll take care of you.”

Dean rolls on his side, resting his chin on Cas’s shoulder. “You don’t have to.”

Humming again, Cas finally opens his eyes. He blinks a few times, raising his head as best as he can and pouts at the drops of come on his chest and stomach.

With a tired sigh, he grabs a bit of sheet and cleans himself quickly. That done, he settles better against the cushy pillows, and finally takes Dean’s hand in his, bringing it to his chest.

He exhales, blinking again, before smiling at Dean. “I feel like I finally understand you.”

Dean lets out a laugh. “Yeah?” he says, he need to make a joke suddenly erased by how pleased Cas look. Dean’s _happy_. “Well, I’m glad.”

“I am too,” Cas huffs out in a small laugh. “Very glad.”

He looks down Dean’s body. His eyes stop on the bulge in Dean’s pants. “Are you sure you don’t want me to…”

Dean shrugs, shifts closer to Cas. “Just want to let you bask in the afterglow for now,” he says, eyes roaming over Cas’s face, dropping every few seconds to his lips, he can’t help it, “we’ll see if you’re up to it after that.”

God, he should stop looking at Cas with so many hearts in his eyes, because Cas will surely notice at some point, but he can’t stop. “And if it’s not too late by then,” he adds.

Cas has a wife to go back to, after all.

“Amelia’s out tonight,” Cas answers, like he knows what Dean’s thinking. His free hand comes up to Dean’s face, and he tentatively takes Dean’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “At a friend’s. She won’t be home until late.”

He doesn’t give Dean any time to answer. Leaning forward, he kisses him.

Dean sighs into the kiss and lets Cas turn them around until Dean’s on his back. They keep kissing like a couple of teenagers for a while.

Dean couldn’t care less about the outside world in this moment. This is everything he wants. If he forgets about Amelia for a second, he can imagine that Cas just told him he loves him. Maybe he just proposed, and they’re celebrating by having a quick one in between patients.

Dean’s heart pounds painfully inside his chest.

He can imagine it, but this will never be enough. He should stop this while it hasn’t gone too far. After all, he has Aaron now. They went on a date. Which kind of means they’re together.

He should forget about Cas. He should stop saying yes to sex when it’s not part of the Study. Even when it’s supposed to be part of the Study. He should really stop entertaining the notion that Cas cares about him for something other than physical relief.

Cas pulls away, giving Dean a tender look and Dean’s heart hurts even more.

He seems to consider what he’s going to say for a couple of seconds, before dropping a small peck on Dean’s nose.

“Spend Christmas with me,” he whispers.

Dean can’t answer right away. Not only because he’s surprised, but also because he has to make sense of it first.

“With us, I mean,” Cas adds when Dean stays silent. “Amelia and I. And my mother,” he grimaces. “I’m aware you’re not her biggest fan, nor is she yours, but I would love to have you with us.”

He tilts his head on the side, questioning.

Dean finds himself looking at their hands clasp together, resting above his own heart. “I, uh, if Amelia doesn’t mind. I’ll see.”

“You don’t seem convinced.”

Dean looks up at him again. “No, I would love to.” He ties to smile a little, to show Cas that he’s being sincere. “Sam’s not gonna be there, and I’d rather spend that time with you. And Amelia. Even your mom. It’s just…” he trails off.

How can he explain this without giving himself away? That he appreciates Amelia, he truly does, but he’s not sure he can handle seeing Cas being all domestic with his wife. Not after his last heat. Not after this, whatever it is they just did.

“I… don’t want to impose on your family.”

Cas nods with a thoughtful hum. “Well, I’m pretty sure mother will hate to have you there with us, and that would make me really happy,” he says, and gives Dean a knowing smile. “But I understand. I’ll ask Amelia, and let you know what she thinks. I’m sure she’ll agree that it would be nice, though.”

Dean nods, but he doesn’t feel great about it. “Won’t it be difficult for you, you know… to… to have Amelia and I in the same room? For a whole evening?”

Cas shrugs as best as he can in this position.

There seem to be a whole other conversation with himself happening inside his head before he answers.

“I don’t know how it will feel. All I know is it will go a lot smoother with you there.”

Dean grimaces at words, he can’t help it.

So that’s it, huh? Cas wants him there to act as buffer between him and his mother?

“And I want to spend time with you outside of here,” Cas adds.

Dean doesn’t know what to answer to that.

‘Thanks’? ‘That’s nice’? Nothing would really be appropriate. So Dean says nothing.

He just rubs his cheek on Cas’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth. His erection is gone.

He still wants to stay here like this for a little while, though. This feels good. He doubts they’ll have many occasions to do this, somehow.

He squeezes Cas’s hand, and, slowly, slides his fingers in between his.

Cas squeezes back.


End file.
